The Last Stand
by Four of Hearts
Summary: Matt, Kitty, Doc and Festus, along with the determined citizens of Dodge, face down a vicious band of renegade Comancheros invading their town.
1. Chapter 1

The Last Stand  
Chapter 1  
by  
Four of Hearts

The night was cold and black, and the stars were scattered across the endless sky like a million twinkling diamonds. The tall man lit a small fire to heat some coffee and warm his raw hands. He was grateful that the biting wind had stilled at last and the prairie had grown quiet except for a few yipping coyotes in the distance. It had been a long trip, and, surprisingly enough, he had come through it unscathed. If only he'd pushed on tonight he might have made Dodge City by morning, but the bitter temperatures and the fact that the big buckskin he was riding was tired forced him to at least take a short rest.

It was a miserable night, the double tendrils of dark and cold invading his bones, trying to take him prisoner in their grasp and hoping to lull him into a sleep from which he might never wake. By habit he could never totally relax enough to sleep when on the trail so when he huddled as close as possible to the small fire he had built, it was not with the intention of sleeping, just resting for an hour or two until it was safe to continue.

As he crouched near the heat, he could not help but picture the face of the young cowboy he'd shared a drink with last night. Sharing a drink was hardly a good way to describe what happened, but the face continued to haunt him as he thought back to the previous evening. The town in which he'd found himself wasn't much to write home about. It had consisted of about six saloons, half of which were little more than tents with whiskey bottles and beer barrels balanced on long trestle tables. The rest of the town consisted of one boarding house, a livery stable and no law. Nevertheless, he had been tired and cold after spending four nights on the trail, and decided that any form of bed and hot food would be welcome. After finding a room, he headed to the least seedy-looking saloon and ordered a beer and a bowl of the hot stew they were serving up.

While the warm food slid comfortingly down his gullet, he spotted a strange sandy-haired young man mumbling to himself at the end of the bar. He couldn't help but notice the expression on his face, a kind of glazed stare into the distance. Matt had seen it many times before during the war when young men – barely more than boys really – experienced their first battle. The gunfire, the blood, the screams, and then the dead; the horror of it all left them like that. It was not something men were supposed to experience. Matt attempted to strike up a conversation with the young cowboy. He asked him where his home was.

"There is no home now," came the murmured reply, but it was not really a response to the Marshal's question. He was repeating the same words over and over, like a litany. "There is no home anymore, no Akinsville, no Molly, no baby... It's all gone. They took her away..." There were tears on the man's face, tears that coursed their way from reddened, dark-rimmed eyes and down dirt-stained cheeks. He would wipe them away with a tattered shirtsleeve and then stare silently into the distance for a while. Then the words would come again, followed once more by tears. Matt looked around but none of the other occupants of the saloon seemed to even notice, much less care about the young cowboy.

He ordered another bowl of stew and placed it in front of the man.

"What's your name, son?"

The young cowboy looked towards him with those hollow eyes, but Matt knew he wasn't seeing anything. His mind was lost in a world of horror and misery.

"Here, try to eat something." He picked up the spoon and placed it in the man's hand, "C'mon, it'll help you feel better."

"No, no, I can't live without Molly." He threw the spoon to the floor and staggered out through the crowded barroom.

Matt watched him go. Something unspeakable had happened to that boy but he had no way of knowing what. Matt left the saloon and looked up and down the street. There was no sign of him and although he was worried about the young cowboy, there was not much else he could do. He walked up and down the only street in town, looking in all the saloons but could not find him again. Finally he gave up and went back to his room at the boarding house.

Now he was back out on the trail, only a few hours from Dodge. The first light of dawn was barely visible and he was up, making coffee and preparing to move on for those last few miles.

As he saddled the buckskin he began to shiver. The cold was beginning to win out over his determination. He had about four hours to go before he would see the welcome sight of Dodge City, and he was beginning to wish he had pushed ahead last night. Feeling chilled to the bone and utterly miserable he urged the animal into a jog. Once Buck was warmed up he would get him into a gentle lope.

The lawman was making good time-another hour or so and he would see Dodge ahead. The image of the stove in the jail being stacked high and glowing hot filled his mind. Maybe Festus would have a pot of fresh coffee brewing. Then it seemed that the bubble of luck that had accompanied him on this trip burst open and everything went bad. The worst that could happen, the buckskin pulled up lame.

Hoping the animal had just picked up a rock, he kneeled down and one at a time inspected the animal's feet. No rocks, just a swollen tendon over his left front pastern. To ride him further would cause permanent damage. The only thing the big man could do was walk the rest of the way. Picking up both reins he gently led the animal on. It would be a long, cold trip on foot now. He would be lucky to make it home before dark.

As the afternoon progressed the temperature dropped even further. He had no feeling in the fingers of his right hand now; he could see the reins lying there, but was no longer able to feel them. Maybe it would be a good idea to stop for a while. He could light a fire and warm up a little. The idea was tempting - but he knew it was just the cold trying to take over his mind. The only way to fight it was to keep going, just keep putting one foot in front of the other. The horse would stiffen up if he stopped and he did not want to have to abandon him out here on the cold prairie. Somehow he kept going, one foot in front of the other, each step bringing him closer to the warmth and comfort he needed.

It had been more than three weeks now since he had left home. Finally there ahead, just as the light was fading he saw the first outline of the city in the distance.

Even though he pulled the collar of his coat as tightly around him as possible, the cold biting air invaded the very core of his body. He stumbled several times, and once he even fell to the ground. He could willingly have stayed there he was so completely exhausted. _This can't be happening. Get up, keep moving... Kitty... She's waiting for you. Think of Kitty..._

Eventually he was there at the end of Front Street and pure determination got him to the livery. The big door was closed against the weather so he kicked at it and called for Moss. The old man finally appeared, wrapped in a well-patched horse blanket and rubbing his hands trying to keep warm.

"Marshal, I'm glad you finally made it home. Festus has been looking for you every day for the last week. I think there is something bad headed towards Dodge. He's getting real nervous."

Matt was not too concerned. Festus could stretch things all out of proportion at times.

"I need to wrap his front left," Matt said, indicating the horse's leg. "He's got a swollen tendon. I had to walk him for the last three hours."

"You go on down and check with Festus. I'll take care of the buckskin for you."

Matt took his rifle, canteen and bedroll from the saddle and turned to leave. There were only a few people he would trust to care for his horse – fortunately Moss was one of them.

"Oh, and Marshal," Moss continued. "You look like you could do with a little care yourself."

Matt said nothing. He had been thinking approximately the same thing, although he was quite sure that what he had in mind was not quite the same thing that Moss was recommending.

He walked wearily along to the Marshal's office. It was dark by now and lamps were lit in most of the buildings. Not many people had ventured out in this cold wind that came from the north and cut through however much clothing a man could wear.

He opened the door to the office and Festus, who had been lying on the cot, jumped up.

"Well, Matthew, if you ain't a sight fer sore eyes." Festus went on spilling words out all over the place.

Dillon had no hope of keeping up with the story he was trying to tell. "Festus, you have to slow down. I am cold, tired and hungry and before I can listen to anything else, I need some hot coffee."

"I'll fetch it fer ya', Matthew, but first you have to read this here telegram."

He dug around through a pile of papers on the desk as Matt removed his trail coat and tried to get warm by the heat from the old potbelly stove in the corner. He sat on the cot with a grunt and removed his boots so his feet could thaw out.

Festus finally found the telegram he was looking for; apparently, it had been marked it with a red "X" so he knew it was the important one. He brought it over to where the marshal was sitting trying to get some circulation back in his feet and carefully handed it to him. "Here, you read this, Matthew, whilst I heat ya up some coffee."

Dillon opened the envelope. It was from the Attorney General's Office and it was addressed specifically to him, not just to U.S. Marshals in general. It read:

_Large group of Comancheros thought to be heading towards Dodge City. Leader Pancho Morales Santiago led the group that totally demolished town of Akinsville. Details to follow._

The marshal sat thinking a minute. His brain seemed to have suffered from the cold along with the rest of his body. He could not recall where the town of Akinsville was located, but one thing he did remember – that name – Pancho Morales Santiago. Matt had a good memory for names and faces-it was essential in his job-but this name he could never forget.

Matt was the first to admit that his youth had been wild at times. There were five of them all together, five boys who liked to think of themselves as men. They became as close as brothers. Having no other family or place to call home, they ended up riding together. That spring they had worked for Sam Hoppington, a cattleman with a big spread down near the Mexican border. There were several accounts of rustling going on in the region and Hoppington had hired all five of them to ride protection for his herd.

One evening a band of rustlers appeared. There was a fight. One of the five "brothers" was shot and killed. Matt had chased after the rustler in a fit of rage and eventually caught up with one, a Mexican with cruel eyes, watering his horse at a small creek.

He could not remember how, but they had finished up fighting hand to hand. Then the rustler drew a knife. Matt thought he was going to die right there, but somehow he got control of the weapon and, in the following struggle, a deep, angry cut was slashed across the rustler's face. In horror the rustler raised his hand to the wound and Matt watched as blood poured out from between the man's fingers. "You watch out for me, boy. I know your name. Dillon, is it? I am Pancho Morales Santiago and one day I will find you and settle this score. Just remember that." The man had ridden away leaving a stunned Matt Dillon and a trail of blood. That vivid picture had remained in Matt's mind and, yes, he would always remember the name.

Matt shook his head to clear it and asked, "Festus, is there anything else? An official envelope that came by regular mail, maybe?"

"There's a whole heap o'official lookin' mail right here, Matthew. I jest piled it up so's you could go through it when you got back."

Dillon went to the desk and started flipping through the mail. Most of it was routine – wanted posters and reports on trials. One envelope was different. He tore it open and sat down to read it.

Akinsville had been a small town in the Dakota Territory. The inhabitants consisted of fur traders, a few ranchers and the occasional miner. It was not a rich town, but the population had been growing at a steady rate. Early one morning when the sun had barely risen over the horizon, the Comancheros came riding into town. They ransacked, raped and finally set fire to the small town leaving every man, child and every animal dead in their wake. They mercilessly killed the older women, but the young ones had been taken with them, their fate unknown.

One man had survived, a young cowboy, who had been riding towards Akinsville from the opposite direction. He had been resting on top of a small rise outside of town and had watched with horror as the town was totally obliterated from the face of the earth. The town had been his home, and there was nothing he could do to stop the destruction. He had ridden to the nearest town with a sheriff's office and reported what he saw, and then disappeared from sight. Matt knew, now, that he had met that young cowboy just two nights ago.

The department was sending Matt a warning – it looked like these outlaws had been getting more ambitious and had taken several bigger towns. Now it seemed likely that they were headed for Dodge. Matt knew for certain that they were.

tbc

FoH


	2. Chapter 2

The Last Stand  
Chapter 2  
by  
Four of Hearts

Matt anxiously tapped the telegram and letter against his palm in thoughtful silence for a moment before opening a drawer in his desk. Quickly grabbing a pencil and paper, he scratched out a short message and pressed it into Festus's hand. "Take this down to the telegraph office and get it sent off immediately. Wake Barney if you have to."

"Will do 'er, Matthew," Festus agreed, reaching for his coat. "Ya want me to wait fer a answer?"

"Yeah," Matt answered after a moment's pause. "And tell Barney to put a rush on it. I need an answer on that as quick as possible."

"Who's it to, Matthew?" Festus queried, peering down at the paper in his hand.

"The commander at Fort Dodge," Matt answered.

Festus wanted to ask for more details but he saw a look on Matthew's face that told him not to tarry. "I'll be back quicker'n you kin say the rat ran over the roof with a piece o' raw liver in 'is mouth, Matthew," he called over his shoulder, hustling out the door.

Matt watched him leave through bleary, bloodshot eyes, then wearily shuffled over to the cot in the corner of the jail and lay back with an exhausted groan. He wanted more than anything to go see Kitty but not until he had an answer and could confidently reassure her that the town and, more importantly, she would be safe. Unwillingly, he quickly sank into a deep sleep and was visited by nightmare images over twenty years past, a young outlaw's face, cut and bleeding, eyes filled with rage and vengeance.

Matt startled awake when Festus returned in an hour, bursting in the door with a blast of wintry air. Grasping a paper in his hand, Festus explained he'd had to roust Barney from bed, and he in turn had to roust someone at the fort, but at last an answer was received. As Matt read the wire in his hand, his heart sank.

"What's that there say, Matthew?" Festus asked, warily eyeing the grim expression on Matt's face.

Apprehensively, Matt looked up at his friend and deputy. "It says unless I do something drastic, Dodge is in trouble."

Festus looked at the lawman in confusion as Matt began to put his boots back on. "Whatta you mean?"

"I requested help from the fort," Matt told him. "But there's only a handful of soldiers left there. Seems Commander Goodson took most of the troops and pulled out two days ago heading to Salt Flats. There's some sort of Indian uprising there. We are effectively on our own."

"Ya reckon, that there yahoo San-ta-ge is gonna make a run fer us, do ya?" Festus asked, already dreading the answer.

"Yeah, I do." Matt answered bleakly as he reached for his gun belt, hat and coat. "I'm going over to the Long Branch, Festus. I need to talk to Kitty."

Festus could only nod as the weary and agitated yet determined lawman left the jail.

As Matt trudged down the street, he knew of only one thing to do to thwart disaster. He just hoped he could make Kitty understand why he had to do it.

FoH

"No, Matt!" Kitty declared emphatically. "You don't know how many men this Santiago has. From what that letter says he's wiped out whole towns. You could be killed."

Matt shrugged, trying to appear confident. "I know the dangers, Kitty," he stated, somewhat exasperatedly. "But I also know I can't just sit by and wait on them to come here. If we do this right, we might be able to stop them before they even get near Dodge."

Kitty glared at him, angry that he was risking his life in such a way.

Doc swiped his mustache trying to make sense of it all. Earlier, when Matt had come into the saloon, he had found Kitty and Doc sitting at their usual table and had asked them if could speak with them in private. As Kitty led them into her office, Doc had the unsettling feeling this wasn't going to be good news. He had been right.

"Matt," Doc said, trying to be the voice of reason. "Say you can get enough town men to go out there with you. How do you know for a fact where they'll be or that you can stop them? What if they come in a different way?"

"There's really not any other way they can come, Doc," Matt explained. "That trail's the best and easiest through those hills. Santiago is going to want to take the quickest route in and out."

"When're you going?" Doc asked, sympathizing with the pained look on Kitty's face. What Matt was planning was beyond dangerous.

"I want to hold a town meeting," Matt answered. "Warn everyone about this and make some plans in case….." He didn't go on for Kitty's sake. "I'll see then how many men I can get to ride with me." He continued, "I figure we'll meet first light over at the church and leave after that."

"You sure about this?" Doc asked.

Matt shrugged. "Santiago's not going to expect a fight, Doc. At the very least we could slow him down or we could very well derail his plans entirely."

"Or you could very well get killed," Kitty fumed as she turned away, not wanting to show him how very much afraid she was.

But Matt knew her too well. Walking up behind her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her.

Doc turned self-consciously and took a few steps away, fiddling with the watch in his pocket to give them a semblance of privacy.

"I have to do this, Kitty," Matt stated simply. "It's not only my job but it's the only way I know of to keep everyone - keep _you_ - safe."

Kitty turned in his arms, hugging him tightly to her, no longer fighting the tears. "Please be careful," she begged.

Bending down and making sure Doc wasn't looking, he placed a quick, chaste kiss on her lips and nodded. "I will."

tbc

FoH


	3. Chapter 3

The Last Stand  
Chapter 3  
by  
Four of Hearts

Kitty stood shivering beside Doc in the early morning cold, looking around at the crowd gathering behind them in the churchyard. Festus had gone inside and was loudly ringing the church bell to summons the town and the clanging was beginning to give her a headache. She was grateful when the bell finally stilled and Festus emerged back outside, hovering at Matt's elbow.

Looking up at Matt, she frowned in worry. Though he hadn't spent the night with her, she could tell he hadn't slept much and what he was about to ask of the town wasn't going to make him many friends. And he was going to need friends when he went out to stop Santiago.

Matt stood impassively on the front stoop of the church watching as the bewildered town's people gathered, knowing what he had to say would shock and frighten those assembled there, but knowing as well that he had no choice. He was charged with the safety of this town and he intended to do all he could to insure that.

"What's going on here, Marshal?" Mayor Harold J. Whitaker demanded as he stepped up front where Matt and Festus were standing. "What's this all about?"

"You'll find out along with the rest of the town, Mayor." Matt answered calmly.

"Along with the rest of the…." The mayor was infuriated. "I should have been informed before any meeting was decided on and you know that. I am_ THE_ mayor of this town."

"I know what your title is, Mayor." Matt eyed him coolly. "But I have an emergency situation on my hands. I have some important news for everyone to hear, and there's no time to waste."

The Mayor's already flushed face turned redder as Matt took a step forward and raised his voice to be heard over the chatter of the people gathered in front of him. "Folks!" Matt called out. "Folks, I need your attention. I have some news for you all and I need you to listen to me."

A hush fell over the crowd, as all eyes and ears turned towards the lawman. "I know it's awful early and I know it's cold out here," he began, making sure to make eye contact with as many people as he could. "But I received some information yesterday that you all need to be aware of."

Kitty watched the faces of the many people she knew either personally or by reputation. Their attention was centered solely on the tall law man before her and a mixture of concern and confusion was the common expression on their faces. Pulling her red hooded cloak tighter around her, she listened as Matt described his plan for evacuating most of the town to the nearby fort.

Though unhappy that a full company of troops wouldn't be at the fort to offer protection and more than concerned with the homes and businesses they would be leaving behind, quite a few of the town's citizens agreed it would be a sensible plan to take themselves and their families to safety.

Several others disagreed, notably the mayor of Dodge City. "I think you're a damned fool," Mayor Whitaker declared. "Why, we have enough people here that we could hold those devils off and even put the rout to them. You're asking us to leave our homes and businesses unprotected."

Matt took a deep a breath, trying to contain his temper. "Mayor, what I'm asking is for everyone to think of their safety and that of their families before their belongings. Things can be replaced. People can't."

"But we can defend this town," the mayor insisted. "We have plenty of people."

"What we have is plenty of businessmen and farmers." Matt said sternly. "What we don't have is plenty of men who know how to fight these kind of desperados."

As the mayor and Matt stood arguing the fighting abilities of the town, Kitty noticed Lavinia Whitaker as she stepped up silently by her husband's side holding onto the arm of her oldest son, Josh. Looking around she didn't see the other Whitaker boy Zeke but assumed he wouldn't be far away.

Though she had never spoken to Lavinia before, Kitty made an effort at contact. But when their eyes connected, Lavinia hurriedly looked away, refusing to speak or even acknowledge the saloon owner. Shaking her head, Kitty inwardly rolled her eyes at the snub. Yet another of the town's _respectable_ citizens who looked down their nose at her, she thought.

"Well, I still think you're wrong," Mayor Whitaker huffed. "But I guess I see your point. I assume you want everyone out?"

"No," Matt told him. Looking back at the large number of people still standing around, Matt raised his voice yet again. "Although I'd like most of you to head out to the fort, I would like some volunteers to ride out with me and some more to stay behind here in town and set up some defenses in case Santiago and his men get past me. I won't make anyone go or stay though. It's your choice."

Looking around at the sea of faces in front of him, Matt wasn't certain if anyone would step forward.

"I'll be going with you," Quint Asper declared as he stepped up beside Matt. "Anybody else going with us?"

Matt was gratified to see several hands raised and seven more men stepped forward. Though small in number, it was more than he expected. "I thank you, men," Matt told them then looked back out at the crowd. "Now who will volunteer to stay here in town?"

A rumble went through the crowd as they discussed the idea among themselves. Finally an older gentleman stepped forward. Grizzled, with more hair on his chin than his head and eyes that had seen more than his share of trouble he raised a clear strong voice to the marshal. "I'll stay, young fella," he said. "I figure I got at least one good fight left in me if it comes to that."

Matt started to decline his offer when an elderly lady stepped forward and took the old man's arm. "What Elmer here means is, me and him both will be staying," she declared.

Elmer looked lovingly at the woman beside him and patted the hand on his arm. "That's what I meant," he said. "Me and Ruby will be staying here."

Matt gave a quick nod, acknowledging their bravery. "I appreciate that," he told them, "but you need to know it could be dangerous to stay here. I hope I can hold the Comancheros back, but I can't guarantee it."

Ruby beamed up at the tall man in front of her. "We've been married fifty years, Marshal. We've fought everything from Injuns to floods to prairie fires. I don't reckon we're afraid of no Mexican thieves."

Several other people, including another older couple stepped up beside Ruby and Elmer and figuratively drew a line in the sand. All of them stated clearly they would not be going on to the fort with the others. If Santiago made it to the town, they declared, he wouldn't be leaving it.

Matt shook his head, quietly amazed at the volunteers' bravery. "Alright," he told the small group assembled in front of him. "I want those who are going with me to get your gear and horses and meet me back here in a couple of hours. Those who are staying here in town go on into the church and I'll be in there in a minute."

As the people began to move, Matt looked over at Kitty and Doc still standing at the foot of the stoop. "I want you two to go on out to the fort," he told them. "I'm going to have enough to worry about as it is."

Kitty looked up at Matt and pursed her lips but refused to reply. What she planned on saying to Matt would be done in private. Not on the street in front of the church. "Come on over to the Long Branch before you leave," she told him as she turned, leaving a puzzled marshal behind her.

"What'd she mean by that?" Matt asked, watching her walk away.

"You'll have to ask her," Doc stated.

Matt looked over at Doc, seeing something in his stance. "You're not planning on going out to the fort, are you?" he asked.

Doc rammed his hands deeply into his coat pockets and shook his head. "No, no I'm not. I've got a patient over at my office that I can't leave. I'll be staying here with him."

"Well, can't you just take him on out to the fort with you?" Matt asked.

Doc shook his head. "No, he's a hemophiliac, a free bleeder. His wife brought him in yesterday afternoon with a cut on his leg. I've got him bandaged up pretty tight but I'm afraid to move him. He starts bleeding again, I may never get it stopped."

Matt nodded. "Alright," he said resignedly. "But promise me you'll be careful, and if Santiago does get past us…"

"I know, I know." Doc waved him off. "Don't you worry about me, Mr. Marshal. You just take care of yourself. I'm not sure this town could do without you."

tbc

FoH


	4. Chapter 4

The Last Stand  
Chapter 4  
by  
Four of Hearts

Matt walked quickly through The Long Branch and hurried up the stairs. There was no time to waste, and he had to see what Kitty wanted before she left for the fort.

He knocked on her door, three times in rapid succession. "Kitty, it's me." Getting no answer, he knocked again and called a little louder. "Kitty, honey, are you in there?"

He heard a door open and turned to see Kitty poking her head out of the next room. "I'm over here with Sunny, Matt."

Sunshine Jones was one of Kitty's saloon girls, or had been until several weeks ago. Matt knew that Sunshine was her working name, but she had used it exclusively since coming to Dodge and he didn't remember ever knowing her given name. What he did remember was how upsetting it had been for Kitty when she had to confront Sunny over a situation which was becoming increasingly obvious—she had been hiding a pregnancy for nearly six months. She tearfully claimed not to know who the father was, though Kitty suspected that wasn't the case. She wasn't sure why, but her intuition told her that the girl was protecting someone. It was just speculation, though, and she had no evidence of her suspicion.

A pregnant saloon girl was hardly able to make a living in Dodge, in that line of work or any other. There wasn't a business in town willing to take on that scandal, no matter what they may have thought of her personally. Sunny was alone and frightened, with no family and nowhere to go. Kitty had her own business to run, and she couldn't very well let a room be taken up by a girl who couldn't work. But she couldn't turn her out on the street either. Over the years, Kitty had seen her share of saloon girls in trouble—there was a time when she had almost been one of them—and it wasn't in her to abandon someone who so desperately needed her help.

So three months ago, Kitty had temporarily solved that dilemma by squeezing an extra bed into another girl's room. Lydia Cornett had come to work for Kitty around the same time as Sunny, and she was more than happy to help her friend by sharing a room. Kitty didn't know what she would do afterwards, but she had resolved to at least see Sunny through the birth of this child.

Matt walked over to Kitty as she slipped out of Sunny's room, leaving the door slightly ajar. He just caught a glimpse of the girl sitting on the bed, looking down with her arms resting on her obtrusive belly.

"How is she doing?" he asked quietly.

"Well, I think she's pretty scared," Kitty replied. "She could have this baby any minute, and on top of everything else happening here it's almost too much for her to cope with."

"Yeah, I guess it would be," he agreed. "I suppose you'll have to be extra careful with her on the trip out to the fort."

"Oh, Matt, she can't travel in her condition," Kitty asserted. "Doc told me as much. He thinks the baby is large and it could be a very difficult delivery. It's too risky for her to take off in a bumpy wagon without a doctor."

"Riskier than staying here?" he asked. "I don't know, Kitty, I think she might be better off with you. She trusts you, depends on you."

"I think so too," Kitty replied. "That's why I'm not going either."

"Like _hell_ you're not," he said forcefully, in a voice loud enough to carry into the bedroom.

"Shh!" Kitty ordered, gently closing the door the rest of the way. She motioned for him to follow her back to her bedroom, walking swiftly and briskly swinging her arms. He knew that walk, and they were headed for a fight. But Matt was determined that for once in his life, he would make her see something his way.

They got just inside the bedroom and Kitty closed the door. She turned around and took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down and discuss this rationally. She appreciated the gravity of the situation and knew that he was only trying to protect her.

"Matt, I understand why you're upset…" she began.

"Then you'll understand why I have to insist that you go to the fort with the others," he said bluntly. Kitty's calm demeanor faded almost instantly.

"You can _insist_ all you want, but you can't tell me what to do," she responded angrily, hands squarely on her hips. It was true, of course. Matt was hard pressed to think of a time in the seven years they had been together when Kitty Russell had done what she was told. But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to talk some sense into her now.

"Look, Kitty, I admire your intentions. Honestly, I do. But these are extraordinary circumstances, and I can't let you put yourself in that kind of danger. Do you know what that would do to me?"

Kitty glared at him. "No, Matt, how could I possibly know what that would be like?" she replied sarcastically.

"Kitty, listen to me," he implored. "If Doc thinks Sunny shouldn't go, then I will trust his judgment. But he's staying. He'll be here if she goes into labor."

"And he'll be here to keep his patient from bleeding to death, and to tend to anyone else in town who gets injured if there's an attack," she contended. "Doc is one man, Matt. He can't do it all. He's going to need my help. I know how to deliver a baby. I could do it alone if I had to."

Matt's voice rose, unable to hide his consternation. "And who will help _you_ if the Comancheros make it to Dodge? Do you know what happened to the young women in Akinsville? They were taken away, and God only knows what was done to them. I can't let that happen to you or any other woman in Dodge. You _have_ to get out of here, Kitty-go with everyone else!" His tone was desperate, and Kitty ached for him. He felt responsible for her and the rest of the town, and that was a crushing weight to bear.

"But it's not everyone else," she reminded him. "I was at that meeting, Matt. I heard those people saying they wanted to stay with their families and defend their homes. And you didn't try to stop them, did you? Because you know you don't have the right to make that decision for them. Isn't this my decision? You said you trust Doc's judgment. Don't you trust mine?"

"This isn't about trust," he argued heatedly. "It's about the biggest threat this town has ever seen and my duty to protect as many people as possible from it. That includes you. _Especially_ you."

"I know, but Sunny needs me," she maintained. "You said that yourself."

"_I_ need you!" he shouted, fully aware that his argument stemmed from emotion rather than reason. It was not a position in which he found himself often, and his inability to control it frustrated him. "I'm begging you, Kitty. Please, go to the fort."

She looked into his pleading blue eyes, wanting more than anything to ease the considerable burden of this man she had loved for so long. But she couldn't run away from her responsibilities any more than he could.

"I'm sorry Matt. I just can't," she said softly.

Matt swallowed hard and looked down. His stomach churned and his mind raced. The Comancheros were headed for Dodge, and Kitty would be there for the taking if they made it. Overwhelmed, he turned and silently left her room, closing the door behind him.

tbc

FoH


	5. Chapter 5

The Last Stand  
Chapter 12  
by  
Four of Hearts

Jamming his hat onto his head, Matt buttoned his heavy coat and grabbed his rifle from the rack, ready to ride out. But he wasn't truly ready. Not by a long shot. Because he'd just spotted Doc standing on the boardwalk outside the jail with his arm placed comfortingly around Kitty's shoulders, the two of them waiting for him to head out with his small contingent of farmers and businessmen from Dodge to fight the brutal Comancheros. Stepping out the door, Matt gazed at Kitty in her sensible work dress and starched white apron all wrapped in a red wool cloak, shivering against the bitter cold. Her hair was pulled back out of her face but tumbled long and shining down her back in a way that made her look so young and pretty and vulnerable that his chest fairly ached at the sight. Because now he had to say goodbye to her, and their last words had been spoken in hurt and fear, frustration and anger.

She couldn't speak now, but even if she could've she wouldn't have known what to say at this terrible moment. Using his familiar gesture, Matt placed his hand in the small of her back as they headed wordlessly across the boardwalk toward his horse, and he thought what he always did whenever he held his hand there in that sweet spot. He thought how it felt when they were alone together and he lovingly stroked his rough palm down the smooth, white expanse of her back until it arched softly into that bewitching little hollow and then over the creamy curve of her backside that made a man feel a little dizzy. His Kitty was a wonder...all woman. The light of his life. And now he had to say goodbye. To leave her in potential danger, when the thought of what could happen to her made his blood run cold.

He reluctantly dropped his hand, and still she stood with her arms tightly crossed, her lips pressed firmly together. He'd seen that look many times before. She was not happy. But he had no choice but to leave now. And she felt she had no choice but to stay here, where the risk for her could not have possibly been greater.

Doc doffed his hat and took a step back. "Good luck, Matt," was all he could manage, not trusting himself to say more.

Kitty didn't make a move as Matt placed his rifle in the boot, mounting his horse while people hurried by, hauling heavy bags, children in tow, jumping in carriages and wagons, heading to the fort, fleeing to safety. Where Kitty should rightfully be heading now.

"Won't you change your mind, Kitty?" he asked one last desperate time as he gazed down at her.

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Won't you?" was her terse reply. "Neither of us has a choice, do we, Matt? We're both doing what we've got to do," she finished with an undeniable certainty and a coaxing look in her eyes when she finally looked up at him sitting there anxiously in the saddle, so handsome and strong and heroic that her heart nearly burst with both pride and worry.

No answer. He didn't know what to say.

Doc shook his head in silent sympathy. It seemed the proverbial shoe was on the other foot this time round_._

"Bye, Doc," Matt called out to his old friend.

"So long, Matt," Doc answered in a grim voice. "See you soon," he offered up as a hopeful afterthought.

And Matt Dillon looked down at Kitty, so tense and torn up by all this. He couldn't help but want to comfort her, especially after yelling at her earlier in the Long Branch. And, without thinking, he leaned over in his saddle, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and dipping his head low over hers. He caught the surprise and wonder in her eyes right before his warm lips captured hers in a hard kiss, a desperate kiss, perhaps a last kiss, pulling her to him urgently, her hands clutching his shoulders, until they were breathless and suddenly aware of the curious eyes around them, and he reluctantly let her go.

Her mouth dropped open and his did a little, too, at what he had just done out here on a public street, with people staring but trying to act like they weren't. And then he sat back and tipped his hat to her as Buck nickered and shifted nervously. Matt stated simply, "Kitty," wheeling Buck around and thundering away down the street with his men, to do battle with Santiago's small, vicious army.

tbc

FoH


	6. Chapter 6

The Last Stand  
Chapter 6  
by  
Four of Hearts

Louie Pheeters downed the last precious slug from his bottle of Old Crow, smacking his lips as he peered inside to make sure it was well and truly empty before he carefully set it on the window ledge behind him alongside all the other empties. Grabbing another bottle, he pried out the cork with his teeth, watching the men who'd elected to stay behind in Dodge and set up fortifications scurrying busily down the street. They were carrying shovels and pickaxes, hatchets and hammers. Wagonloads of baled hay and barbed wire, wooden crates and empty barrels rattled past hurriedly. Louie absently wondered what they were going to do with all those things.

Sam Noonan strode up, hefting a case of whiskey on his shoulder. "Here ya' go, Louie."

"Thanks!" Louie exclaimed, turning the bottle in his hand upside down over a large, nearly empty rain barrel, watching the amber liquid slosh noisily. He shook the last drops out and licked a stray drip from his finger, indicating that Sam could stack his wooden case on top of the others on the ground beside him. "Keep 'er comin', Sam!"

Clem Busey, another Long Branch bartender, hauled over metal containers of kerosene and coal oil, dumping it into the mix.

"Ahhhh...'preciate it, boys!" Louie stirred the foul substance in the barrel with a wooden paddle, glancing over at old Ruby Ayers, sitting in a cane back chair ripping cotton sheets into strips. "How're you doing over there, Miz Ruby?"

"Just fine, Mr. Pheeters. Have you seen my husband lately?"

Sam spoke up first. "I believe he's with Mayor Whitaker now, ma'am. They're setting up blockades at the end of Front Street." Turned out Whitaker was a retired army officer with a fondness for reading books about ancient battle strategies. The mayor had quickly rolled up his sleeves and followed in the footsteps of Caesar himself, gathering his troops around him and drawing his fortification plans in the dirt. The men eagerly went to carrying out his plans, the mayor's two teenage sons Josh and Zeke acting as his young corporals. The Roman defense plans proved to be the likes of which no one in Dodge had ever seen before, but there were high hopes that it would help to stave off a deadly invasion.

"My, oh my, I hope Elmer doesn't overdo it," Ruby muttered to herself, her arthritic fingers stiffly working at her task. "He still thinks he's a young buck sometimes... You know my husband used to be a miner, back before he met me."

Clem replied, "Well, he should know a lot about explosives then." He added ominously, "We'll sure be needing him around here."

Ruby beamed with quiet pride. "He sure knows his way around dynamite and such." Her eyes clouded with worry as she commented, "Yes, I s'pose my husband will come in pretty handy what with those terrible men coming to raid our town. "

A quietly competent voice interrupted their anxious reverie. "You folks gettin' a mite hungry?" It was Delilah Cooksey, the wife of the new owner at Delmonico's. She carried a wicker basket piled high with ham biscuits, warm from the oven.

"Yes, ma'am," Clem answered enthusiastically. "I haven't eat all day." He reached for a biscuit, and the others appreciatively followed suit, murmuring their thanks through delicious flaky bites of biscuit and country ham. None of them knew when they'd have a chance to eat next.

"Me and my husband will keep 'em comin', folks. And you all just head over to Delmonico's for a free meal if you get a spare minute."

Ruby gave Delilah a grateful smile as Sam declared, "That's mighty nice o' you, Miz Cooksey."

"Well, it's the least we could do, what with the warm welcome everyone in this town has given me and Sheldon since we bought the place."

Louie offered softly, "Well, ma'am, that's partly because your husband can actually cook a decent meal."

Sam and Clem laughed while Louie expounded, "He is named Cooksey, after all..."

Mrs. Cooksey shook her head. "My poor husband will never be able to live down that family name of his. Some days he gets so much ribbing he swears he's gonna change it... Oh, Mr. Brewer!" Mrs. Cooksey called out to a middle-aged man hauling a wheelbarrow loaded with boxes of weapons down the rutted street.

Harmon Brewer was the local gunsmith who ran a shop further down Front Street. He'd had a tearful parting with his wife that morning as she headed with her elderly mother to Fort Dodge and safety. Harmon paused long enough to look over his shoulder and see who was calling his name. "Ma'am?"

"Could I offer you a little somethin' to tide you over until you can get a proper meal?"

"Yes, ma'am, Miz Cooksey, I reckon you sure can." He eagerly dug into the food she offered. "I b'lieve these biscuits are just as good as my Betsy's." He stopped mid-chew and looked at them all. "Just don't tell her I said that."

"See there," Clem declared as he polished off his last bite and rubbed his cold hands together. "Proof positive your husband was born to cook. Well, Sam and I gotta get back to work. Miss Kitty will be fit to be tied if we don't get all that whiskey hauled out here quick. Thank you kindly, Miz Cooksey."

"You're mighty welcome, folks. And don't forget to come to Delmonico's when you get a chance so me and Sheldon can thank you for all you're doin' to save this here town."

Ruby Ayers watched as Delilah Cooksey hurriedly carried her basket loaded with food further down the street in search of more hungry townspeople. She admired the woman's spunk, staying with her man when she could just as easily have headed to the fort. But she figured Delilah had a vested interest in that restaurant she and her husband had recently purchased and wanted to make sure it was still there after the dreaded Comanchero band was long gone.

Ruby had silently observed earlier when other folks were packing up and heading for the fort. There were plenty of emotional farewells for the womenfolk who had men staying behind in Dodge to protect the town. Ruby knew she could never say goodbye to her husband like that. They'd been through too much together over the years— joyful births and tragic deaths, blissful happiness and bitter sorrow, seasons and seasons of memories. She was determined they'd stay together through this trial and die together if it was meant to be. Brushing the biscuit crumbs from her lap, she set her mouth determinedly and went back to ripping cloth fabric, her mind a jumble of emotions.

FoH

Sam and Clem turned and headed back to the Long Branch where Doc and Miss Kitty were busy setting up a makeshift hospital. Doc had carted over his medical supplies and Miss Kitty helped him arrange a temporary operating room in the bar. They already had a woman expecting a child soon and an injured bleeder to care for. Sam was sure there'd also be casualties later if the Comancheros made it into Dodge. The thought made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Before Marshal Dillon had left with his posse, Sam had heard raised voices in Miss Kitty's room early that morning. Her door had opened and the marshal had tromped dispiritedly down the stairs into the bar. Then he'd headed straight for Sam Noonan himself.

"Can I help you, Marshal?" he'd asked politely, and he couldn't help but notice the disgruntled expression on the lawman's face. He figured Miss Kitty had gone and told him she was not riding to Fort Dodge. That'd be enough to take the wind right outta the marshal's sails, for sure. That Miss Kitty was a determined lady.

"Sam, are you goin' to Fort Dodge or are you..."

"I'm stayin', Marshal Dillon," Sam had quickly answered.

A relieved look had washed over the Marshal's face.

Sam had continued quietly but firmly, "I'd never go and leave Miss Kitty here by herself, Marshal. You should know that."

Dillon had sighed and answered, "Yeah, Sam, I shoulda' known you'd stay here with her. I appreciate it. Please take care of her for me while I'm gone."

"I will, Marshal. I most assuredly will."

Now the marshal was gone, and as Sam watched his employer help Doc unpack medicines and instruments, he truly hoped he could keep his word. This was sure one mean bunch that was headed straight for Dodge. He'd made double certain the shotgun behind the bar was loaded and ready, and he'd also run home to retrieve more weapons and ammunition in case they should need it, stashing the small arsenal in Miss Kitty's office. He knew beyond a doubt that he would defend Miss Kitty to his last breath, but he just hoped that would be enough to save her.

tbc

FoH


	7. Chapter 7

The Last Stand  
Chapter 7  
by  
Four of Hearts

Matt sat crouched behind a large boulder overlooking the trail that wound its way through the optimistically named Gloss Mountains. Though really nothing more than a series of tall hills, they were the nearest you could come in these parts to actual mountains.

While attentive to the trail and every movement around him, Matt's thoughts were somewhat preoccupied with a certain beautiful red head and the impetuous kiss they had shared. The corners of his mouth lifted in a warm smile as he remembered the look on her face when their lips had parted. It was the same look he supposed he had worn-surprise and pleasure mingled with longing for more...and a very real fear that they may never see each other again if things went badly. He prayed fervently that wouldn't happen, but he was glad for that last bittersweet taste of the woman he loved before he rode out to face whatever hand destiny dealt them.

"You reckon they'll be here soon, do ya?" Festus whispered hoarsely as he crawled up next to Matt, making sure to stay low and out of sight.

Matt glanced up and nodded. "Yeah. Santiago's gonna want to hit Dodge about dusk when things have settled down for the day and people are at home. To do that he has to come through here pretty soon."

"Ya think we kin stop em' here?"

Matt looked earnestly at his friend and shook his head. "Nope. But I figure we can at least slow them down. Give everyone back in town a little more time to prepare."

Festus nodded and silently looked down over the trail. "Well, if'n they make it to Dodge, and I ain't sayin' they will, mind ya, but if they make it, they'll shore git a surprise. I were plumb flummoxed my ownself that the mayor know'd so much about defendin' and such. Sure am glad he does though. With him and the rest a workin' like turkeys back there, that San-ta-ge ain't gonna know what hit him."

A ghost of a smile lit Matt's face for a moment as he thought of the brave people, including the mayor, who had volunteered to stay behind and build defenses inside the town. People like Doc, and Sam…and Kitty.

Pushing that anxious thought aside his couldn't help but grin as he remembered Louie Pheeters promising to forego liquor completely until this was over. He had a feeling that would be easier said than done but he admired the man for trying.

"They're coming," Matt heard suddenly. Cautiously, he peered back over the rock and saw a number of riders heading boldly down the trail. His heart beat faster as he saw the size of the column. There had to be at least fifty or sixty men riding with the fearsome bandit. "Festus," he whispered urgently. "Pass the word. No one fires until I give the signal. We might be able to pick off quite a few if we let them get closer."

Festus nodded and scooted off, passing the word quickly to hold fire until they saw Matt's signal.

Glancing to his left and down a ways, Matt locked eyes with Quint Asper. Though Quint looked back unflinchingly, Matt saw a tightening around his eyes and the rigid set of his shoulders. He was as uncertain as Matt of their chances of coming out alive.

Down at the other end of the line, Carl Dean Halsted sat fearfully watching as the massive line of men came into view and began to make their way closer. Sweat streamed down his face at the sight of so many men, and though he knew Matt's order, his mind was in a panic. Raising his rifle, he aimed in the general direction of the small advancing army and began to fire.

Matt's heart froze as the first reports of rifle fire echoed off the rocks around him. Swiveling his head to the right, he saw Halstead, rifle raised and firing madly down on the approaching riders. He heard a cry as Halstead was hit in the chest dead center. Carl Dean Halsted was Dodge City's first casualty.

Waiting was futile now. Matt waved his arm and gave the signal to begin firing. One by one, the remaining Dodge men brought their arms to bear and began firing upon the bandits as they rapidly dove for cover amidst the rocks and boulders on the opposite side of the trail.

Quint rapidly crab walked over to Matt and pointed to a spot on the opposite side and to the left. "I'm gonna see if I can make my way over there," he yelled loudly enough to be heard over the escalating gunfire. Santiago and his men had found cover and were now returning heavy fire on the brave men of Dodge. "I thought I saw Santiago heading in that direction and if I can get there, I might be able to take him out."

Matt shook his head. "No, Quint. That's my job. You stay here and keep firing-pin them down."

Quint grabbed Matt's arm though, as he started to rise, and pushed him back. "Matt, I stand a better chance of getting over there than you do. Besides these men will listen to you, not me. You just give me some cover fire, okay?"

The blacksmith was right and Matt agreed regretfully. "Be careful."

Quint flashed a quick grin and took off. Fleet of foot and trained as a boy in the Comanche way of moving, Quint was soon across the trail and creeping silently upon six men who had taken shelter among a group of large boulders and were firing fast and hard up at the Dodge men.

To his dismay, Santiago was not among them, but these men needed to be stopped as well. Taking careful aim, Quint rapidly began to fire down upon the bandits.

In swift succession four men fell under his withering fire. As another one fell, Quint's rifle jammed. Throwing it down, he reached for his knife but he had barely touched it when the remaining man drew a bead on him and fired. Only his catlike reflexes saved his life, if not his arm. Feeling the burn as the bullet made its way through the flesh of his upper arm, Quint ducked back out of sight and quickly retreated back to the other side where Matt and the others were entrenched.

Matt saw him coming and laid down a blistering barrage of fire, providing cover until Quint made his way back. "How bad you hit?" he asked, noticing his bloodied arm.

"Just a flesh wound." Quint replied dismissively. "But I think we'd better think about getting out of here. I got five of them, but the rest are dug in tight and there's no way we can hold them off for too long."

Matt nodded as he took aim and fired at something he saw moving just below. "I think you're right. It's gonna be dark in a little while, and I know a way out of here that bypasses that trail. But we're going to have to leave someone here to keep firing occasionally to hide our retreat."

"I'll stay," Quint immediately volunteered.

But Matt shook his head. "You're hurt. Flesh wound or not, that arm's bleeding pretty bad. You wouldn't last long. I'd do it myself but I'm the only one who knows the way out of here."

"I'll do it," a voice came from his right. Matt looked up to see Nash McGuire coming towards him on all fours. "I ain't got nobody waiting on me back in Dodge. I figure I ain't got nothing to lose by staying here."

Matt clasped the man by the arm with a grateful smile. "I appreciate that, Nash. I figure it'll take us a couple of hours to get back down to where our horses are tied and get out. I'll have the men give you all their extra ammunition but the way we've been firing I doubt there's too much left."

"Don't worry none about me," Nash stated with more certainty then he felt. "Sides, ain't all of them fellers going be firing back at me. Their horses scattered when they took cover. Some of em's gonna have to go chase em' down. You just tar heel it back to Dodge. I got me a feeling that's where the real battle's gonna be."

Darkness settled on the landscape within half an hour. Gripping Nash's shoulder, Matt found it difficult to tell the man of his gratitude for the sacrifice he was making. "Keep their heads down," he managed.

Nash nodded with a brave smile as he watched Matt and the seven remaining Dodge men quickly leave, and under his protective fire, disappear from sight.

It took less time than Matt thought to reach their horses, but he knew that would be the last easy thing they would do before this was over. Swiftly mounting his horse, he waited till the others were aboard their own mounts and then turned and galloped off into the dark, leaving one brave man behind to his fate.

tbc

FoH


	8. Chapter 8

The Last Stand  
Chapter 8  
by  
Four of Hearts

Kitty entered Sunny's room carrying a tray of rolls and juice. "How are you feeling this morning?" she asked in a cheerful tone that masked her growing concern.

"Fine," Sunny replied unconvincingly, struggling to find a comfortable position as she sat up in bed. "But I'm not very hungry," she added. "I don't think I can eat anything right now."

She'd had little appetite lately as she tried to cope with both the anxiety of their situation and a large baby pushing against her stomach.

"You need to keep your strength up, honey," Kitty insisted, sitting on the bed next to her and setting the tray in her lap.

Sunny stared at the tray for a few seconds before tearing a small corner from one of the rolls. She put it in her mouth and slowly chewed, looking miserable. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

"It's going to be OK," Kitty promised, taking her hand. "Doc is here, I'm here. We're going to get you through this."

"I know," she said quietly. "I just wish…" she trailed off.

Kitty knew what she wished, without having to ask. It was the wish of any woman facing childbirth, especially for the first time—that the father of her baby was there to let her squeeze his hand through the pain and tell her he loved her.

"Sunny, are you sure there isn't anyone else you would like with you when the time comes?" she asked, gently brushing a wisp of hair off the girl's forehead. It was a question she had has asked before and felt as though Sunny had come very close to saying yes.

Sunny bit her lip and shook her head, the tears now falling down her face.

"I know you're scared, but you can trust me," Kitty assured her as she steadied herself for what she was about to say next.

"I've been there, Sunny. Not exactly where you are now, but I know what it's like to be young and alone and suddenly facing the prospect of being a mother. It's terrifying."

She had finally said it out loud. She had said it in her head a thousand times since that day Sunny had finally acknowledged her condition. Kitty had wanted to throw her arms around her and tell her that she understood, that she still remembered what it felt like. That she would always remember. But she couldn't do it. Not until now.

Maybe it was realizing that this baby could arrive at any minute and those memories would come flooding back. Or maybe it was the uncertainty of the times and the possibility that no one would make it out alive. But Kitty told Sunny about a nineteen-year-old saloon girl who tried to convince herself that the dizziness and nausea were caused by the flu, until her period was so late she had to face the truth. She spent the next three weeks crying and heaving, wondering how she was going to raise a baby on her own. Then one morning she awoke with terrible cramps and blood soaked sheets, and her baby was gone. It should have been such a relief, yet she mostly just remembered the profound sense of loss she felt afterwards. That she still felt sometimes.

Sunny listened intently to the story Kitty Russell had told only one other person in her life. This woman had cared for her unconditionally and watched a baby growing inside her, putting her own needs and feelings aside. Sunny decided that she owed her the truth.

"I know who the father is," she admitted.

"Does he know?" Kitty asked.

"Oh yes, he knows. He's a good man, Kitty. He wants to take care of us."

"Then why is he not here with you now?" she wondered.

Sunny paused and took a deep breath. "Because it's Josh Whitaker."

"The mayor's son?" Kitty gasped, wishing immediately that she had done a better job of hiding her surprise. She had seen him in the Long Branch a few times, but she had certainly never seen him go upstairs.

"I know," Sunny replied with a weak laugh. "Who would ever think the mayor's son would be interested in me?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Kitty said apologetically. "It's just…well, I've never seen you together."

"He came into the Long Branch one day about a year ago, and I sat down next to him and asked if he wanted to buy me a drink. Just doing my job, you know. He had the prettiest blue eyes. And then he smiled at me, and I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I know that must sound awfully silly," she said, shaking her head.

Kitty tried to stifle a grin. "I don't think it does," she insisted, remembering a chance encounter in a small café on her first day in Dodge.

"We got to talking, and it was like we had known each other forever. We like a lot of the same things—music and poetry and literature—all the things my folks liked and taught me when I was growing up. Before they died and I had to go live with my uncle."

Kitty knew about the accident that had killed her parents and the abusive uncle who had taken custody of her. She had run away at seventeen, and Margaret Elizabeth became Sunshine Jones.

"Josh and I started seeing each other after that," she continued. "Once I met him, there was nobody else. I'd let other men buy me drinks, but that was all. We had to sneak around because he knew his parents wouldn't approve. And who could blame them? They have such big plans for his future. He's been applying to law schools out east—that's his dad's dream, you know, for Josh to become a lawyer like he wanted to be. There isn't much room for a saloon girl with a baby in that dream."

"What does Josh want?" Kitty asked.

"He says he wants us—me and the baby," she said, putting her hands on her belly. "But his parents would disown him, I know they would. And he wouldn't be able to go to college. I can't let him ruin his life on account of me. I love him too much."

"But it's his baby, Sunny. Doesn't he get a say in this?"

"That's what he said," she replied. "I don't know, Kitty. He told me that he's not giving up on us, that he'll find a way to make this work. But I don't see how. His parents will never allow it. He would lose everything."

Kitty didn't know the Whitakers that well, but she suspected Sunny might be right. She put her arm around the girl and pulled her close. "You're very strong," she said reassuringly, as Sunny laid her head on Kitty's shoulder. "You're going to get through this."

"Thank you, Kitty. For everything," she replied gratefully. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Honey, I think this conversation passed personal about twenty minutes ago," Kitty joked.

"I suppose so," she chuckled. "You know what it's like, don't you? Loving a man and having to keep it a secret."

"Why do you say that?" Kitty asked, trying to sound genuinely puzzled.

"I've been here for a good while now, and I see it. The way you and Marshal Dillon look at each other. He's your man, isn't he?"

Kitty arched her eyebrows and looked at her with mock irritation. "Now, some things are _nobody's_ business," she asserted, as they both laughed.

tbc

FoH


	9. Chapter 9

The Last Stand

Chapter 9  
by  
Four of Hearts

The woman entered The Long Branch wearing a plain white blouse and dark skirt, her hair pulled back in a simple bun like a schoolmarm. Kitty almost didn't recognize Lavinia Whitaker, who didn't at all resemble the immaculately dressed and perfectly coiffed politician's wife she was used to seeing. Lavinia looked around the saloon as if surveying the area for the first time. Now that Kitty thought about it, this was likely Lavinia's first visit inside her establishment. She chuckled to herself as she imagined the mayor's wife dodging the bolt of lightning she surely expected after entering such a place. What was she doing here?

Kitty walked over to Lavinia and put on her best "it's nice to see you" face. Lavinia hadn't said ten words to her in all the years she had lived in Dodge, and she could only assume it had to do with her occupation since they hadn't had enough personal encounters to even dislike one another. Kitty had learned a long time ago that judgment and disapproval were as much a part of owning a saloon as a steady paycheck, and if you didn't learn to ignore it you were in the wrong business.

"Hello, Mrs. Whitaker," she offered pleasantly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Lavinia smiled politely. "Hello, Miss Russell. I heard that you and Doctor Adams were setting up an area in here to treat the wounded. I wondered if I may be of assistance since I have some medical training."

"You do?" Kitty asked, surprised.

"Well, not formal training," she explained. "But my father was a doctor. He used to take me on calls with him when I was a girl. Not by choice, really. My mother had died and he couldn't leave me alone all the time. He figured I might as well learn something while I watched him work, so he was always explaining what he was doing and why. He let me help quite a bit after I got a little older. I expect I remember most of it—delivering babies, cleaning wounds, setting bones."

Kitty had not known what to expect when she began talking to Lavinia Whitaker, but it certainly wasn't this.

"I'm sure Doc would appreciate your help very much, Mrs. Whitaker," she replied, amazed at both the friendliness of the conversation and the details coming from it. "I had no idea your father was a doctor. I guess we haven't gotten to know each other very well, have we?" Kitty decided to tread lightly on the subject, not wanting to offend the woman but genuinely curious about the sudden change in demeanor.

"I suppose not," Lavinia acknowledged. "I don't think…I mean, it's not because…" she began, struggling to find the right words.

"You don't have to explain," Kitty said.

"But I do," Lavinia insisted. "Miss Russell, my husband is the mayor of this town, and he has aspirations of becoming more than that. He has very rigid beliefs about how his wife and children should behave. They're not always my beliefs, but he's the man of the family and we have to abide by them. I'm sorry if I've been cold to you. That's not my nature."

Kitty suddenly realized that this was the first time she and Lavinia had ever come face to face without the mayor present. Maybe Lavinia hadn't been snubbing her all these years; she was just doing what her husband told her to do. That was a concept Kitty Russell did not understand, but she certainly wasn't one to judge other women's relationships.

"Call me Kitty," she said with a warm smile.

"And you may call me Lavinia," the woman smiled back at her. "Miss Russ…I mean, Kitty, may I tell you something that I've wanted to tell you for a long time?" she asked hesitantly.

"Certainly," Kitty replied, having no idea what she was about to hear.

"I admire you, Kitty. You're a strong, independent woman who has made a life for herself in a man's world. Your own life, not someone else's. Sometimes I look at you, and I wonder if that could have been me had circumstances been different."

"What circumstances?" Kitty asked, trying to wrap her mind around the idea of Lavinia Whitaker admiring her.

"I wanted to go to medical school," she began. "I didn't know any women doctors, and I was going to be the first. But then my father got sick, and he was afraid of leaving me alone. I was seventeen—old enough to get married—and his best friend's brother was looking for a wife. That's how I ended up with Harold. Papa thought he had a promising future and would take care of me. So we got married right before my father died, and he was able to go in peace."

"I'm sorry about your father," Kitty said sincerely. She had always thought Mayor Whitaker looked quite a bit older than his wife, and now it made sense that he was. "I suppose your husband didn't approve of your going to college?"

"Goodness, no. He said a wife belonged at home, taking care of her husband and family. It was all about his career. Once the boys came, that became my life. It's been a good life, in a lot of ways. My boys are everything to me, and Harold is a good provider. We've always had plenty. We just never had…well, I guess we never had the kind of relationship that you do."

Kitty bristled at the comment. Her relationship was not a topic for conversation, not with friends and certainly not with a virtual stranger.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," she quickly added. "But I was there when the marshal left, Kitty. I'd heard things, but…let's just say, I've never been kissed like that before. Not with that kind of passion."

Kitty willed herself to hold back the tears she felt coming. She remained silent, but the look on her face said everything. She did know that kind of love, and she wasn't sure she would ever see him again.

She couldn't help but think of the girl upstairs whose hopes and dreams were also shattered at a young age. A girl now carrying Lavinia's grandchild, except she didn't know it. Kitty longed to tell her. She would understand, this woman who turned out to be someone completely different than Kitty had imagined. She would want her son to be able to choose the life that made him happy instead of the life someone else wanted for him. But it wasn't Kitty's secret to tell.

She took Lavinia's hand and headed toward the office. "Let me show you where Doc is setting up."

tbc

FoH


	10. Chapter 10

The Last Stand

Chapter 10

by

Four of Hearts

Matt and the seven remaining men from the posse made their weary way along Front Street. The whole place had changed. The street was now lined by piles of old furniture, wagons, barbed wire, barrels, crates and heaps of other bulky items that had been stacked in such a way that as they rode along towards the Long Branch the street became increasingly narrower and narrower. Matt dismounted from his horse and could hardly find a way through the barricade to get to the entrance of the saloon.

Opening the heavy wooden door at last, he first noticed several ladies inside who never would've set foot inside this place of business before. His eyes searched for Kitty as he removed his gloves, stuffing them into his coat pocket. He spied that shining red hair first, wound into a thick braid spilling down her slim back, soft tendrils mutinously escaping around her face. She was deep in conversation with Doc at the far end of the room. Matt listened quietly as they tried to decide where Doc's operating table should go. Doc was adamant that he needed light from the windows but Kitty was sure it would be safer placed along the back wall.

Suddenly Doc spotted him, his rheumy eyes lighting up as he placed a hand on Kitty's arm and nodded his head toward where Matt stood. She turned and sat perfectly still for a moment, and in her face Matt saw the incredible relief and joy that he had been returned safely to her once again.

Matt removed his hat and said simply, "Kitty..." but his clear blue eyes, crinkling at the corners, told her all she needed to know. She hurried across the room and grabbed him in a bear hug, making him grunt and laugh, and he wrapped his long arms around her and squeezed her tight.

Kitty tiptoed up and Matt leaned over as she whispered in his ear, "Welcome home, Cowboy." His only reply was a crooked smile and a caress of his thumb on her soft cheek. Suddenly becoming aware of the curious eyes around the room, she reluctantly let him go.

Doc made his way over, beaming happily, and he clapped Matt on the shoulder, shaking his hand. "Glad you're back, young feller!"

"Thanks, Doc. I've got somebody who needs some medical attention. Let me go see where he went to."

Suddenly Quint appeared through the front door with a makeshift sling on his left arm. Doc ordered, "Come over here and sit down, young man, and let me have a look at that."

Quint answered tiredly, "Sure, Doc," and was willingly led by Mrs. Cooksey, clucking like a mother hen, over to the examining table.

While Doc fussed over his patient, Matt spoke quietly to Kitty. Although he had really wanted her to leave and go to the fort, he was proud that she had decided to stay and fight, and he had to admit to himself that it was good to have her near. "So tell me what's been going on."

"Well… Mayor Whitaker took over organizing the barricades, Louie is out back pouring some concoction into bottles with the help of Mrs. Ayers, and Elmer went with Mr. Jonas on some other errand he wouldn't tell me about. Doc and I and the other women here," she stopped to indicate Mrs. Cooksey and the mayor's wife, Lavinia Whitaker, "have set up this makeshift hospital. Doc already brought one patient who couldn't make the trip to Fort Dodge over here from his office by stretcher and now Sunny has gone into early labor. Anything else I can tell you, Marshal?" She gave him a wry smile.

"No, that about covers it." The corners of his mouth turned up, but his eyes turned serious. "Kitty, I really wanted you to leave, but at the same time I'm glad you're here." He put his arm around her shoulders. "This is going to be a tough fight. We didn't turn Santiago's men back. We just slowed them down. A few were killed. We lost one man, young Carl Dean Halsted..."

"Oh, no, Matt..."

"Yeah, and one more brave kid, Nash McGuire. Kitty, he stayed behind to cover our escape. I hope he's still alive, but his chances aren't good. Santiago probably has fifty more men left. That's what we're up against. We've only got about twenty men from Dodge."

Kitty looked up at him. "You forgot the women, Matt. We have four very determined women here to back you up. That will count for something."

"I'm sure it will, Kitty." He smiled warmly at her. "I'd hate to be an outlaw who got in the way of Ruby Ayers."

She chuckled.

With a solemn expression, he continued, "The Comancheros will probably be here in about an hour or so. Quint managed to upset their plans a little so that gained us some time."

The physician had just finished wrapping Quint's arm. The wound was not serious and the blacksmith was more than willing to take part in the upcoming battle. Doc was just drying his hands on a clean towel when Lavinia called down from the balcony,

"Doc, Kitty... Sunny is in a lot of pain. I think this baby is ready to be born."

Doc looked at Kitty. "Come with me," he said urgently, then grabbed his bag and headed for the stairs.

"I'll see you later," Matt called after the saloon owner as she turned to follow Doc, and his stomach knotted just contemplating the danger she was in if they weren't able to turn these vicious men back. Kitty glanced over her shoulder at him and he saw a brief, private smile cross her face, the secrets of her heart spilling out just for him through those eyes as blue as a prairie sky. Then, with renewed determination to defeat the Comancheros, he hooked his thumbs in his belt, heading outside to find the mayor and give him the details of their encounter with the outlaws.

Doc and Kitty arrived at Sunny's room in time to see her double over and clutch her bulging stomach. Doc pulled his watch from the pocket of his well-worn vest and noted the time. Once the contraction had passed he had her lie down again so that he could carefully examine her abdomen. He could feel the baby easily but things were not as they should be.

He turned to Kitty, wiping his hand across his face and looking serious as he gave a small shake of his head. She whispered in his ear the news that Matt had given her about the Comancheros' imminent arrival. He paled a bit, but then patted her arm comfortingly, not saying a word. Galen Adams was a doctor, not a fighter. He had patients to care for and there was nothing he could do to stop the impending invasion.

It was almost five minutes before the next contraction came. He took the young girl's hand and waited until she could relax again, then he tried to explain to her what was happening. "Sunny, your baby is trying to come into the world feet first. This is not the usual way a baby is born and it will make the delivery a little more difficult, but if you work with me and do what I say there is a good chance that everything will be all right." As he spoke he removed the wire spectacles from his face and placed them back in their case.

"I'm scared, Doc." The girl's voice quavered and she looked at him with tear-stained cheeks.

"You let me do the worrying." Other than that he had no suitable reply for her so he just patted her hand. Unconsciously, he pulled on his ear with his left hand and reached out with his right to check her pulse. The action gave him time to think. There was no way that this baby was going to come into the world without his constant attention. At the same time there were going to be casualties from the upcoming battle that would require his skills.

Doc pulled Kitty aside and spoke to her quietly. "Kitty, I can't be up here and downstairs at the same time. I want you to clear that table in your office and find some clean sheets and towels, and ask one of the ladies to get some water boiling. We will deliver Sunny's baby down there." He tried to sound confident like he knew this would turn out fine, but deep inside he was worried. A breech delivery was never easy and this one was not taking place under ideal circumstances.

Kitty left and went along to her own room to grab the clean linens Doc had requested. Then she headed downstairs to her office to prepare for the delivery. She was surprised when Lavinia appeared and volunteered to help her. She did not expect that. Neither did she want to have to tell the mayor's wife that this was going to be her grandbaby.

The women had the room ready by the time Doc and Delilah Cooksey had slowly and awkwardly walked Sunny down the stairs and into Kitty's office. They had found a few old quilts and folded them to place on the table hoping to make it a little more comfortable. Then they'd spread a clean sheet over the top.

While Kitty was helping Sunny get settled, Doc went to check on the patient he had brought from his office. He was truly amazed that this man had lived long enough to reach adulthood. Maybe he had been lucky and had contracted a milder form of the disease than most of the few hemophiliacs he had seen. The patient had been placed on a cot behind the bar, where they thought he would be reasonably well-protected from any stray bullets. Doc checked his pulse, the dressing on his leg and felt his forehead for fever. "It looks like you're doing fine, Tim, but I want you to stay very still and quiet. There's gonna be a lot of noise and commotion going on around here soon, but it is important that you stay right here, just quiet and easy, till all this is over. I know your wife and kids went out to the fort so they should be safe."

"Maybe I should have gone with them, Doc."

"No, that wouldn't have worked, son. A wagon ride that far would have started you bleeding all over again, and I wouldn't be out there to look after you. So you just lie there and take it easy."

The young man smiled up at him with worry creasing his forehead, "Thanks, Doc."

The physician shuffled his way between the cots that had been set up by the women and made his way back to the makeshift delivery room. Sunny's contractions were only two minutes apart by the time he arrived. Taking out his stethoscope he plugged it into his ears and placed the bell on her abdomen to listen for the baby's heartbeat. So far, so good. It sounded strong and not too fast. He washed his hands and set out the instruments he might need so that Kitty could have them ready for him to use.

The girl was nervous. This was her first baby and she had no idea what to expect. He tried to explain things to her, but the pain and the fear prevented her from concentrating on his words.

Suddenly, ominous noises came from out in the street, the unmistakable sounds of gunfire. Kitty's eyes met Doc's, and she anxiously gripped his forearm. Doc knew she was thinking of the marshal out there amidst all the bullets flying.

"We'll survive, Kitty. We have some tough folks out there, and Matt is good at taking care of himself." He tried to sound encouraging, and Kitty willed herself to let go of Doc's arm and concentrate on the birth at hand.

Sunny cried out as the next contraction hit. The noises outside were getting louder and from somewhere in the distance there came a deafening, ground-shaking explosion. Kitty jumped and clamped her hand to her mouth so as not to cry out. Fortunately Doc's patient seemed unaware of anything outside of her own pain.

He examined the girl for the fourth time. The baby was slowly making its way towards the outside world. No matter how many times he had done this – and goodness knows he had delivered more than a thousand babies – there was always a thrill at bringing a new life into the world that nothing else could replace. Of course, occasionally there was not a happy ending. Nature didn't always play by the rules, and he never forgot those times either. Hopefully, this was not going to be one of them.

Someone was outside in the saloon calling for him. He looked up at Kitty. "Go see what they need, and make sure none of those men come back here."

She returned in a few minutes. "It's one of Whitaker's sons, Doc. He took a bullet in his chest, and Harmon Brewer has a flesh wound on his forehead, but I think Mrs. Ayers is taking care of that.

Sunny tried to get up at the sound of the boy's name, "Is it Josh? Is Josh hurt?" but Doc pushed her down again, wondering that Sunny knew Mayor Whitaker's son.

"You have to stay here – think of that baby. I'll go check on him."

"Stay here with Sunny," he told Kitty as he pulled the sheet back over his patient and walked over to the bowl to wash his hands. "We need some more water here – I'll send one of the women in with some."

He grabbed his bag and went to check on the boy. He found Lavinia holding her elder son's hand. He looked pale and frightened. Doc examined him quickly and knew there was probably not much he could do. The bullet was deep in his chest and there was no way to extract it. Even to attempt the surgery would be a useless exercise. As he checked the boy's pulse he looked at Lavinia and saw in her expression that she knew as well. He retrieved the bottle of laudanum from his bag and measured out a dose into a shot glass which he handed to Lavinia, her eyes haunted and her face bloodless. "Get him to take this. It'll help some," he told her as he squeezed her hand sympathetically.

While he waited for the drug to take its effect he checked on Brewer who, of course, claimed that he was ready to go back out and fight some more. There was a lull in the noise right then. Maybe that was good – but more likely not.

Doc returned to the Whitaker boy, cleaned the wound a little and applied a dressing, then he left mother and son to their quiet conversation.

Lavinia sat beside her son gently holding his hand and mopping his forehead with a damp cloth. "It's going to be alright, Josh. Doc is delivering a baby. When he's done, he'll be back to take care of you."

"No, Ma, I don't think there is much he can do for me." The laudanum was clouding his mind. "Ma, is it Sunny's baby he's delivering?"

"Yes," she answered with surprise. "How did you know?"

He did not reply for a moment. She thought he had fallen asleep because he closed his eyes. He suddenly looked at her with firm resolution, his grip tightening on her hand. "I have to tell you, Ma. That is my baby. Sunny and I were… well, we are in love. I wanted to marry her..." His voice faded. "...but I guess you wouldn't understand."

Lavinia sat there frozen for a minute. Her son, the one with such a bright future, wanted to marry a saloon girl. What would Mr. Whitaker say? _Love_, what a strange word to her ears. Had she ever known love? Maybe Josh was right in thinking she couldn't understand. She squeezed his hand and then turned away. Taking a handkerchief from a pocket of her skirt, she held it to her face, trying to hide her feelings.

"Ma, don't cry." Josh's voice was growing weaker and was accompanied by a small cough. "Sunny will never tell."

FoH

It'd taken almost a half hour before Doc had been able to return to the makeshift delivery room. Kitty could tell by the look on his face that whatever was going on out there in the barroom was not good. Fortunately, by this time Sunny was so exhausted by her labor that she seemed to pay no attention to her surroundings.

Adams checked his watch, still propped where he had left it on the table. They were now well into the third hour of Sunny's labor and he hoped there had been some progress.

Gently he examined her again and at last he managed to locate a miniature foot. Carefully he started to straighten out the tiny leg it was attached to and eased it into the outside world. He could feel Kitty's eyes on him. He smiled up at her and spoke to the mother-to-be, "Now, Sunny, I want you to push really hard the next time you feel the pain come."

He saw Kitty take the saloon girl's hand, "Just hold tight, Sunny," she whispered in the girl's ear.

As the girl started to push once more he managed to find the other foot and bring it down to join its mate. With each contraction the baby got closer to his reach. Eventually he had the baby's buttocks and torso there in front of him.

"It's a little boy, Sunny," he told her and was rewarded with a smile from her strained features. "Kitty, warm a towel by the stove there and hand it to me."

Carefully he wrapped it round the small exposed body. Then he waited. There was just the head left to deliver and that was going to be the most difficult part.

The gunfire outside was continuous now. He could hear shouting and a few screams. Then it sounded like one of the windows of the Long Branch shattered as the sound of breaking glass overpowered the noise of gunfire. He tried to ignore what was happening out there. His focus had to remain on the task in hand.

At last the baby's head came within reach. Gently he worked his fingers along the little body until he could feel it. He almost knew what he would find. The cord was wrapped tightly around the neck and would strangle the baby before it was born unless he could cut it before it moved any further.

"Sunny, I want you to stop pushing. The cord is wrapped around your baby's neck and I need to cut it. Kitty, pass me one of those clamps." Carefully, he worked the clamp up to his fingers that were touching the cord. It was not easy but he managed to get it in place just as the girl started to push again. "No, Sunny! Kitty, get her to take small short breaths. She mustn't push now. Pass me that other clamp quickly."

Sweat dripping from his temples, Doc carefully worked until he had two clamps on the baby's umbilical cord. Keeping one hand in place he reached for the scissors. If he could just cut between the clamps, he could manage to get this baby delivered.

tbc

FoH


	11. Chapter 11

The Last Stand

Chapter 11

by

Four of Hearts

After Matt had left the Long Branch, he'd headed out on to Front Street to see what preparations had been made to get ready for the invaders. He'd been surprised to see Whitaker giving clear precise orders to the men, telling them how to place the barricades and where to stand. He was allotting them weapons and ammunition and sending some up to balconies and rooftops. He was surprised to see Louie handing out whiskey bottles containing a brown, sludgy liquid and stuffed with homemade cloth wicks to the men assigned to the balconies and rooftops. They were hauling them up in basketloads.

Matt called the mayor over and gathered every available man to describe to them what he'd seen out on the prairie and to tell them how soon Santiago's men would be arriving in Dodge City. Then he left the men to finish the tasks they'd started with vigor anew.

He went to look for Festus and finally found him about ten feet in front of the final barricade spanning the narrowed width at the end of Front Street. He and three other men were digging a large ditch. Sheldon Cooksey and Barney from the telegraph office were there also. They had just finished erecting pointed fence posts angled in the direction the invaders would be coming. The posts protruded about three feet above the ground and were about were placed behind the ditch. Whitaker thought that this combination should deter any men on horseback from trying to jump the final barricade, "After all," he had said, "it worked for Julius Caesar." Of course most of the people he had explained that to had never heard of the great Roman general. Even so the mayor seemed to know what he was talking about so they willingly followed his instructions.

Dillon knew that it would not be long before Santiago and the Comancheros arrived. He made his way along the boardwalk to the jail and retrieved the three remaining rifles and all the ammunition he could find. Fortunately the weather had improved and a dry breeze that blew slightly warmer air through the town had replaced the bone chilling cold of two days ago. Maybe the cold would have been better – it might have slowed Santiago down, but then again he doubted it.

He stopped by the Long Branch, but did not see Kitty. Mrs. Ayers told him she was helping Doc deliver Sunny's baby, and he would not be welcome back there.

"How many guns do you have in here?" he asked her.

"Let me see, we have my husband's old army pistol and about thirty rounds of ammunition and we have two rifles. There is Sam's shotgun from behind the bar. I am not sure if Doc has a gun or not. Mrs. Whitaker says she has a Derringer – but I don't think that will be much help."

He looked around at the three women. Mrs. Ayers must've been seventy years old, but she had lived a life through wars and natural disasters. She was quite capable of using a rifle to kill if she had to. Mrs. Cooksey he knew nothing about. Lavinia Whitaker was also someone he did not think of as being able to handle a gun, but you never could tell what people would do until the time came. He had seen Kitty use a rifle. He knew she hated doing it, but she was capable if the need arose.

He handed over one of the rifles and a handful of slugs. "Keep these handy, just in case."

Her weather worn face cracked into a grin. "Don't you worry about us, Marshal. If any of those men come in here, we can handle them."

"I think you can, Mrs. Ayers." He tried to return her smile, but the worry and responsibility he felt prevented much feeling from showing on his face. "Tell Kitty I came by."

"I will, Marshal," she said quietly, but her words only reached his back because he was already headed out the door.

The final barricade looked to be finished, and Matt took up his position behind it. Festus appeared and joined him. Looking up and down the line he recognized many of Dodge's long time citizens as well as one or two newer ones. Sam and Quint, as expected, were right there and also Mr. Cooksey, the new owner of Delmonico's. What a difference they had made to the place. Matt wasn't sure if it was due to Cooksey or his wife but the food was now so much better than it had ever been. And there was Harmon Brewer from the gun shop sporting the head bandage that covered the wound he had received while riding out with the posse.

"I reckon we're as ready as we'll ever be, Matthew."

Dillon just nodded towards his deputy. He was busy counting how many men they had. There were twelve of them behind this final blockade and that included Whitaker and his two sons. The oldest, Josh, held a rifle and was ready to fire. The younger boy, Zeke, had been given the task of reloading the weapons as they became empty. They had brought crates of ammunition up behind the firing line – obviously whatever Mr. Jonas had in stock at the mercantile, plus the new stock that had just arrived for Mr. Brewer's business. Zeke was going to be kept busy.

Whitaker approached the marshal and started pointing out other men he had positioned on roof tops and balconies. He went on to explain that he also had other defenses in place.

"You've done a great job, Whitaker. I need to thank you." Matt reached out his hand to the mayor.

"It's my town, too, you know." Whitaker replied, extending his hand.

They sat and waited as the cold winter air began to make its presence felt now that the sun was going down and the light began to fade. Barely an hour went by before they heard the rumble of hoof beats approaching. Matt could feel the tension rise in himself and in the other men around him.

"Hold your fire, men." Whitaker was standing at the highest point of the barricade, trying to get a glimpse of the Comancheros as they approached the town. Matt let him take charge. He did not know much about the man's past, but whatever he had done in life, he seemed to understand battle strategy. Dillon knew himself to be exhausted from the last few days' activities, and a fresh, alert mind was more likely to make the correct call so he was more than willing to watch and wait.

Now he could see the workings of Whitaker's defenses. As the outlaws turned the corner to ride along Front Street, they were going at a full gallop. To begin with there was confusion amongst them. The street was narrowed, and kept getting narrower as they rode towards the barricade. Their horses became panicked and chaos followed. The mayor pointed to his younger son Zeke and the boy picked up a bugle he had by his side and sounded some discordant notes. About ten seconds after that there was a loud explosion behind the leading group of Comancheros. The outlaws were now crowded in a tight, confused space, and they were trying to dismount from their crazed horses and take cover in the street. Some of them were trampled as the animals tried to flee from the loud explosion. Others tried to run for cover, but couldn't find any.

"Fire!" yelled Whitaker. "Fire at will!"

The defenders began to fire on the hapless group of outlaws who were trapped in the chaos on Front Street. To add to the confusion Louie and several other men were lighting the whiskey bottle fireworks they had made and were throwing them from balconies and roof tops onto the outlaws below. Sparks and heated kerosene were raining down, catching clothing alight and burning skin. Many of the bandits were trying to jump into the water troughs. Matt could see a handful of them trying to escape down an alley. He jumped to his feet to take after them. Festus followed.

Whitaker looked around. A quick calculation told him this was only about half the fifty or so men that were thought to be in the outlaw group. "Hold your fire!" he yelled as he climbed back onto the barricade to assess the situation. It looked like about a dozen or more of the enemy were lying dead in the street, either from bullet wounds or from being trampled by the terrified horses. He saw the marshal and Festus emerging from the alley with four men they had taken prisoner. Several more were dousing their clothing in the horse troughs that lined the street.

"Festus, take two or three of our men and round them up." Matt pointed at the still smoldering outlaws. "Then go lock them in the jail." He looked around but nowhere could he see Santiago. He knew he would recognize him if he was there. They had defeated this wave of attackers easily. He thought there had only been minor casualties, but he knew there would be more to come.

He sent the injured men to the Long Branch to be taken care of, and set off to find Whitaker. When he found him, the Mayor was busily redistributing his forces, but he was also looking for his son Josh.

"What was that loud explosion?" Matt asked the man.

"Elmer Ayers had some TNT left over from his mining days. Dangerous stuff, but the old man said he would like to see if it still worked, and anyway he needed to get rid of it. So I told him to hide it out there just before the trail hit Front Street, that way when the outlaws rode in we would let it off behind the leading group and scare their horses. I figured it would cause confusion and split their ranks in two so as to reduce their advantage of numbers."

Matt smiled to himself. These people of Dodge were amazing, resourceful individuals, and he was proud to be part of this rugged town. He was especially proud of Whitaker. He'd thought the man to be a self-righteous, somewhat pompous individual but now he saw him in a new light. Matt spoke grimly, "You know there'll be more outlaws on the way, don't you? That was barely half of them."

"We'll be ready, Marshal. The men are regrouping. Have you seen Josh anywhere?"

"No, he was over there to my left when the firing started."

Whitaker went off to search, but once again got distracted by men asking him for instructions on where to go next.

The break was welcome. Some of the women from the Long Branch hurriedly brought hot coffee out and the warm mugs were welcomed by cold fingers. Matt knew that before long they would have plenty of other problems to take their minds off of the chill in the night air.

Sure enough, it started. It was not so much the noise this time as the torches that the new wave of invaders carried. Fire was a horrific event in a town where most of the buildings were constructed of wood. He thought about the safety of the prisoners he had locked in the jail, but knew there was little he could do about it.

The Comancheros had made one mistake. That first group of men was supposed to wear the townsfolk down, to scare them into submission, so that when Santiago and his top commanders rode in, their task of taking over the town would be relatively easy. By this time they had presumed the citizens of Dodge would be milling around aimlessly.

The first thing that surprised Santiago was the large hole in the ground as they approached the town. Most of the right hand side of the street was missing. They had heard the explosion but figured it was the work of their own men. Because they were carrying lighted torches they could not see much above the flames they carried, but the bright flames made good targets for a small group of men up on the roof of the livery stable.

As the riders were forced to move closer to them to avoid the large hole in the street, the men took aim and fired down on them in unison. Four of Santiago's men fell to the ground. Louie still had a few of his whiskey bottles left and threw them down for good measure. Once again the now riderless horses began to shy and buck, and several more riders were propelled to the ground.

Even so Santiago was determined to continue. He wanted Dillon. He wanted to humiliate him by taking over this town, robbing the businesses and stealing the young women. He wanted to make the marshal watch the destruction of everything he had worked for. And then he was going to kill him. His hand touched the long scar on his cheek. He had lived with that for twenty years now, and all because of Dillon.

Santiago still had a dozen good men left. He started towards the barricade at a gallop, urging his men on.

Whitaker ordered his men to open fire again. Santiago was getting closer and closer. The gunfire became more intense and a bullet ricocheted and bounced off of one of the Long Branch windows, shattering it. Then there was a volley of screams as four of the outlaws disappeared into the hole Festus had dug.

The torches that two of them had been carrying fell to the ground and part of the barricade began to burn. Matt saw Sheldon Cooksey leap from cover and grab two buckets. Before anyone could stop him he was heading towards the nearest horse trough. One of Santiago's men fired and Cooksey fell to the ground.

"Cover me," yelled Matt to the men nearest him as he climbed over the barricade. He made it to Cooksey's side, but the man was already dead. He saw that the fire was beginning to spread and without thinking gathered up the buckets and went to fill them. The flames could be quenched now, but if they went on much longer the resulting fire would be out of control.

At that moment, Santiago raised his gun and fired. He was not trying to kill the marshal. He had other plans. Matt had just begun to pour the water on the flames when he felt the forceful explosion bury itself in his thigh. He was hit. Matt Dillon cried out and grabbed his injured leg. Then he managed to draw his gun and fire back, but Santiago and his remaining men had already taken cover.

He heard Festus yell, "Matthew," and a barrage of gunfire followed. Then Festus was beside him, hauling him to his feet. "C'mon Matthew, you cain't rest here. I'm gonna take you over t' Doc."

The rain of bullets had stopped and several other men had managed to control the fire.

"Did you see where he went, Festus?"

"No, but don't you worry none. We'll find 'im."

As Matt was helped into the Long Branch he looked around and saw several other men who had been hurt during the battle. Most of them seemed to be relatively minor injuries, and he felt that they had been extremely lucky. Then to one side he spotted Lavinia Whitaker bending over one of the cots. Josh was lying there. From where he stood leaning on Festus's shoulder he could tell that the boy did not look good. He looked around for Doc but couldn't see him.

The women were all busy cleaning and bandaging the casualties. Lavinia looked up and came over to him. She took one look at the blood streaming down his pants leg.

"Take him back there and get him on Doc's table." She indicated the back of the room where Doc's examining table had been set up.

"Mrs. Whitaker," Matt managed to say. "Is that your boy over there?"

She nodded sadly and struggled to hold back the tears. "They brought him in a while ago. He took a bullet in the chest." Her breath hitched, and then she continued, "Doc doesn't give him much hope."

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. He is a brave young man."

She nodded and turned away before the tears started. Matt had never even realized that the young man had been hurt. He doubted Whitaker knew yet either.

"I'll go get Kitty for you," Lavinia said quietly to him.

FoH

Doc heard a gentle knock on the door and turned to see who was there. Lavinia eased into the room closing the door behind her. At first he was afraid Josh may have died but he quickly realized that it was Kitty she had come to talk to. He turned back to his patient. "Kitty, I need those scissors, and don't let Sunny push just yet."

Lavinia spoke up. "The marshal has taken a bullet in the leg, Doc. I think it got an artery because he's bleeding pretty bad. I think Kitty should go to him. I'm going to stay here and help you. Don't worry, I know what to do." She went and washed her hands in the clean bowl of hot water.

The physician turned to Kitty, his hands still holding the baby in place. "I can't leave just now. Kitty, look in my bag and find the large tourniquet. Go and put it as tight as you can above the wound. I'll be there to help Matt as soon as I've finished here."

He watched her leave, wishing he could be in two places at once. "All right, Mrs. Whitaker, pass me those scissors. It's time for this baby to make an appearance."

Lavinia handed him the instrument he had asked for. She was looking on anxiously – of course the physician had no idea that he was delivering her grandson. He managed to make enough room to slide the scissors up to the neck and cut the cord between the two clamps. "Come on now, Sunny, push real hard and we'll have this baby."

Lavinia stood frozen to the spot, holding her breath as the baby's head emerged. She grabbed one of the small blankets that Kitty had left warming by the stove. Doc grasped the baby by its feet and rubbed on its chest. The infant began to cry and the bluish tinge that had invaded its skin turned to pink. He laid the baby in the blanket that Lavinia was holding and noted the tears in the woman's eyes as she gently wrapped him up. He watched as she reluctantly passed the little bundle to Sunny.

"You go check on the marshal, Doc. I can wait for the afterbirth. I know how."

Somehow he believed her and, after washing his hands, picked up his medical bag and went on to find his new patient.

Kitty had already gotten the tourniquet in place by the time Doc arrived. He told Kitty that the baby was fine and Lavinia was staying with Sunny. The irony of the situation did not escape the redhead. She wondered how the mayor's wife would feel if she knew that was her grandson. Of course neither Kitty nor Doc had any idea of the conversation that had taken place between Josh and his mother, and Doc had no idea who the father of the baby was.

Doc removed the dressing that Kitty had applied and examined the marshal's leg.

"It's pretty bad, Matt – but not quite as bad as it looks. I will have to remove that bullet but it's not real deep, and I think the bleeding is coming from a small artery, not the main one to your leg."

Doc produced the bottle of laudanum from his bag, but Matt stubbornly refused. "Doc, you know that stuff messes my head up, and we still have a battle going on out there."

The physician relented. "Kitty, go find him a glass of whiskey while I clean these instruments."

Mrs. Cooksey approached, worry etched in her face. "Marshal, you've seen my husband? Is he alright?"

Matt swallowed back the pain in his leg as his gut twisted with the news he had to deliver to Sheldon Cooksey's wife. His face fell, but he looked into her eyes plainly and with sympathy. "I'm sorry, ma'am..."

Her hand flew to her mouth and instantly Ruby Ayers was by her side.

Matt continued softly, "Your husband was trying to put out a fire that could've burned the whole town to the ground." He touched her hand. "He died a hero, Mrs. Cooksey."

Delilah Cooksey covered her face with her apron as a mournful sound was ripped from her throat. Ruby wrapped her arms around the grief-stricken woman and steered her to sit on a cot at the far corner of the room where she murmured consolingly to her.

Kitty returned with Matt's whiskey, tears stinging her own eyes at what she had just heard and witnessed. "That's bad news you had to deliver, Matt. I don't envy you." Matt shook his head sorrowfully, but had no reply.

Doc blinked and said, "It's a terrible loss. That's what it is." But then he bent to his task. Matt clenched his jaw as Doc proceeded with the surgery. It didn't take him long to find the bullet, and then he spent a few more minutes tying off the damaged artery. By the time he had finished the marshal was sweating profusely, but he would not relent and take the pain medication.

"Where did Festus go?" he asked between grimaces as Doc stitched his leg back together.

There was no time for a reply because it was at that moment that the door to Kitty's office opened. They all turned as Lavinia walked out with the little bundle in her arms. She carried it over to where Josh was lying and gingerly put the baby on the cot next to him. "Sunny is doing fine," she murmured to her son.

Doc was surprised at the scene playing out before him, but Kitty put a hand on his arm. "It's going to be all right now," she said.

He looked at her, and he knew then and there who the baby's father was. He pulled on his ear and smiled to himself.

"Kitty, put a clean dressing on Matt's leg for me. I need to go check on the new mother."

The physician left the room, and it was then that everyone realized that it had gotten very quiet outside.

tbc

FoH


	12. Chapter 12

The Last Stand

Chapter 12

by

Four of Hearts

"What do you think is going on out there, Matt?" Kitty sat on the edge of the lawman's cot carefully tying off his bandage, listening warily to the ominous silence.

"No tellin'," he replied darkly. "But I need to get back out there..." he began and tried to sit up, but Kitty held firm to his shoulders.

"Oh, no, you don't."

"Kitty, I've got no choice..."

Suddenly, the door crashed open, Comancheros flooding into the room. Matt reached for his gunbelt, which had been removed for his surgery and placed on a table a few feet away. Santiago's second-in-command, Enzo Quintana, quickly cocked the trigger on his pistol and pointed it at Matt's chest. "Ah-ah-ahhh...stay right there." he crowed. "Hey, who is this? Amigos, I think we got us the big lawman himself!"

Kitty's eyes widened and Matt froze. Everyone in the room stilled at the sight of so many loaded rifles and pistols pointed at them. "Get outta the way, Kitty," Matt hoarsely instructed. She was sitting between him and Quintana and could easily be hit by a bullet meant for him.

Slowly rising to her feet, she turned to face the brutal Comanchero. Kitty Russell wore her most beguiling smile.

"Well, what do we got here?" the man exclaimed slyly. "You are a pretty little _señorita_. Maybe I will take you with me when we are done with this town, eh?"

"Maybe..." she cagily answered, reaching behind her back to untie her apron and toss it aside carelessly. "But you know what I like,_ señor_?" Placing her hands on her swaying hips, she walked a step closer to the bandit.

She heard Matt hiss warningly under his breath, "Kitty..." Another bandit's rifle pointed his way when he made as if to move.

Ignoring Matt, she took two steps closer, placing her foot on the seat of a nearby chair. Slowly, sensuously sliding her skirts up her shapely leg, past her knee, the men watched hungrily, not sure of what she would do next. She snapped the lacy garter on the bare white skin above her stocking as Quintana dropped his guard and stepped closer to the pretty _señorita_ with hair of fire, breathing in her scent. She purred, "I like it when..." Crooking a delicate finger at him, she murmured in a sultry voice, "Come closer, _señor_, and I'll tell you."

The man gave a brash grin and stepped closer as his comrades looked on. The man's hand slid familiarly up her thigh as she teasingly whispered in his ear, "I like for my men to do what I tell them to do..." With that, she slipped her hand unobtrusively into her skirt pocket and pulled out a six gun, cocking the trigger and firmly placing the muzzle against Quintana's temple. The man's eyes bulged in surprise and fear.

Her voice took on a hard edge. "Drop your gun. And I'd like you to take your hand off my leg, _amigo_. Now."

The man quickly complied as Kitty shook down her skirts and gracefully placed her foot back on the floor. "Back it up, mister, and tell your buddies here to lower their guns."

One of the Comancheros, Emilio, spoke up. "She a woman, Quintana. She not gonna shoot you."

With a quiet rustling of skirts, one shotgun and two rifles joined Kitty in aiming at the bandits. Lavinia, Ruby, and Delilah all pointed their weapons straight at the outlaws nearest each of them.

Emilio brayed, "Aye-yi-yi...this is crazy. This a bunch of _putas_. They not gonna..."

The sound of three triggers cocking sounded in the air. Three pairs of determined female eyes squinted as they locked in their targets. Kitty wryly smiled as she stated matter-of-factly, "You and your bunch got sixty seconds to get outta this building, or I'm gonna blow a hole clean through your head. You got me?"

"I got you, lady. I got you!"

"And tell your boys not to call my friends here '_putas'_. I might be tempted to shoot off their _cojones_. _Comprende_?" He winced as she shoved the gun tighter against his skull.

"_Si! Si! Vámonos, muchachos!"_

The men backed out the door of the saloon into the street. Gunfire immediately resumed as Dodge's defenders got them in their sights.

Kitty sighed and turned to see Matt with his mouth hanging open. "What?" she asked. "I got 'em outta here, didn't I?"

She nodded in distinct satisfaction at her three ladies-at-arms as they lowered their weapons in relief. "Good job, ladies. Now let's get back to work..."

FoH

Doc's patients were resting as comfortably as possible, considering the gunfire and explosions buffeting their eardrums through the walls of their prairie fortress, the Long Branch Saloon. Kitty resorted to threats to keep Matt in his cot, telling him she would sit on him if he dared move an inch. After her earlier performance, Matt believed her. But with each passing minute, he became more uneasy, itching to get back into the thick of things, to help save his town.

With a blast of cold wintry air, Mr. Jonas and Sam Noonan hurried in, carrying a limp Louie Pheeters. He looked as if he had a head wound, and he was covered in sticky blood. "Doc!" cried Sam. "Louie's hurt!"

The sounds of battle outside had strangely ceased once again and everyone stopped to listen to the foreboding silence. Louie's quiet mumbling, "It's jus' a scratch, that's all it is, fellas..." hastened them all into action once more.

Kitty directed them to Doc's surgery. "Lay him down here, boys," she instructed.

Doc left his hemophiliac patient resting quietly behind the bar to dash over to Louie's side and begin his examination. "What happened here?"

Mr. Jonas tentatively answered, "I'm afraid he was hit in the head by gunfire, Doc. I didn't see it myself, so I'm really not for certain."

At that moment, Harold Whitaker rushed in the door exclaiming, "I need to speak with the marshal!"

"Over here, Whitaker," Matt called from his cot.

The mayor hustled over and looked him dead in the eye. "Santiago wants to make a deal."

"What kinda deal?" Matt asked suspiciously. Kitty eyed the mayor nervously.

"He says he's willing to fight it out with you. Personally."

"What...?" Kitty began in alarm.

"Hold on, Kitty, hear the man out. What were his terms?"

Kitty cried in anguish, "Terms? Matt, you've gotta be crazy. Your leg is shot up!"

Matt ignored her and demanded, "Terms, Mayor? What did he say?"

"Winner take all, Marshal. You win, the bandits leave town. He wins..." Mayor Whitaker let the unspoken words hang in the air.

"Kitty, get me some new pants," Matt instructed.

"Like hell I will. Matt Dillon, you can't even walk. Doc! Please talk some sense into him for me!"

Doc shouted from across the room where he was feverishly working on Louie's head wound, "Matt, what you're thinking of doing is insanity. You'll break open your stitches and bleed to death before Santiago even gets to ya'!"

Matt stated calmly and evenly, "I don't have a choice. I want to end this now. Kitty, do as I ask. Go and get me some pants to wear. The material will help hold the bandage more snugly. I want you to wrap me up tight."

Kitty's eyes filled with tears when she realized she couldn't change his mind, and she hurried upstairs to her room where he kept a clean pair of pants. _Damn his hide! He was gonna get himself killed! Bleed to death out in the cussed street before a shot was even fired!_

tbc

FoH


	13. Chapter 13

The Last Stand

Chapter 13

by

Four of Hearts

Laboriously, Matt Dillon limped to the open door of the Long Branch, fairly dragging his gunshot leg while leaning heavily on Sam Noonan's shoulder. He spotted several Comancheros standing insolently atop the last barricade in front of the saloon, Santiago amongst them. His fingers absently traced the long, ugly scar across his pitted cheek, the same scar given him by Matt as a young cowboy some twenty years past. Practically a lifetime ago, thought Matt. But Pancho Morales Santiago was still bent on revenge.

"You need to rest, Marshal?" Sam murmured at his ear.

"If we stop now, Sam, I may never get started again..." he explained through gritted teeth. "But, no, wait..." Matt turned his body painfully. "Kitty..."

She'd been there behind him the whole time, following quietly, her chest so tight she could barely breathe as she watched his excruciating walk to what could very possibly be his death. At his beckoning, she took a hesitant step to his side, swallowing hard to keep the tears from coursing down her bloodless face while he took her hand. She didn't trust herself to speak a word. Kitty already knew how hard this was for him and didn't wish to make it any more difficult.

She realized he was sacrificing himself to force those savage Comancheros out of Dodge City. To stop the bloodshed of the honorable people who were his friends. Friends who were ultimately his adopted family. He was also doing it to save Kitty. She shivered at the thought of his courageousness even while her heart was breaking.

Matt leaned over and whispered four tiny, precious words in her ear, "I love you, honey." Cradling her trembling hand in his, he gently brushed her palm with his soft lips. Her breath hitched in her chest and she choked back a sob, desperately squeezing his hand and pressing it to her heart. Without another word, he quickly and decisively turned back and heaved his injured body out the door with Sam's support, Festus hovering worriedly at his elbow, a grave expression on his scruffy face.

The marshal was followed by the rest of his men, standing sober and straight on the boardwalk with their rifles at the ready. He'd asked Kitty to stay inside, out of danger, but he could feel her presence on the boardwalk as well, even though he couldn't yet see her behind him.

Matt stopped and took a fortifying breath, trying to ignore the tearing sensation in his bad leg. "I can take it from here, Sam...Festus..."

"You sure, Marshal?"

He took a couple of steps under his own steam into the street. "I'm sure. Sam, go take care of her for me, will ya?" he asked in a low voice, nodding his head at the redhead standing beside Doc, arms crossed tightly across her stomach. "Keep her outta the way, Festus. I don't want her hurt."

"Sure thing, Marshal." Sam nodded once. "Good luck to you." Then he headed back to stand at Kitty's other side. Festus removed his hat sorrowfully and wordlessly backed off to stand with the others.

It seemed to take an eternity for Matt to walk the twenty paces down the street and turn painfully to face his opponent. He could feel a wet, sticky, scarlet stain spreading on his pants leg as Doc's stitches began to break under the strain. He felt nauseous and dizzy and prayed he would be able to fight it out before he passed out from blood loss. He figured he had a good chance if he could just stay on his feet long enough. Matt had to get these desperados out of Dodge. They'd caused enough pain and heartache already. And he couldn't bear to think of what else the Comancheros would do if they won.

Santiago leaped like a cat to the dirt in the middle of Front Street, dusting off his hands. "Well, well, Dillon. We meet after all these years." He gave a sly grin. "I didn't expect to be fighting a cripple." The Comancheros on the barricade began laughing. Santiago continued with an oily voice, "I almost feel guilty, killing you here like this."

Quintana shouted from atop a wagon, "Like shooting fish in a barrel, no?" He spied Kitty standing in front of the Long Branch and taunted, "Hey, red-hair _señorita_! You gonna be mine tonight!"

Festus bristled and began to loudly protest, "Why you lowdown..." Doc fiercely gripped Festus's arm in warning until he sputtered to an uneasy, squinting mad silence.

Then Doc placed a protective arm around Kitty's waist and squeezed tightly as the bandits cackled with laughter. He whispered in her ear, "Ignore them, honey. Matt would never let anybody hurt you."

Sam muttered under his breath, "I'd kill him with my bare hands..."

Face drenched with sweat in spite of the cold, Matt called out to Santiago through teeth gritted against the searing pain, "You're awfully sure of yourself, Pancho. Remember, you're in my town now."

"I am sure of myself. I am gonna kill you, Dillon. But don't worry. I won't let Enzo have your woman. I'm gonna take her for myself." He grinned shrewdly at Matt.

The lawman's jaw clenched in anger. "You talk too much. Shut up and draw, Santiago." Matt's hands dropped to his sides, elbows bent. He steadied himself, placing most of his weight on his good leg, breathing steadily, shutting out the pain, balancing himself for the draw.

Santiago let his arms fall carelessly to his sides. "Look at you, Dillon. You are pale. You look sick. You wanna lie down? I bet your woman will lie down easy..."

"Draw now, or you're gonna die, Pancho." Matt Dillon's eyes were murderous. He watched Santiago like a hawk for the telltale tightening of muscles that would give away his intentions. Patience...just watch...and wait.

Santiago hurriedly grabbed for his gun as Dillon snatched his out of the holster in one smooth, swift, sure motion. Two shots were fired. Both men fell.

Kitty placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry, while Doc and Sam clutched both her arms to keep her from running out into the street. Suddenly, Matt Dillon pulled himself up on one elbow, holding a flesh wound on his shoulder. Pancho Morales Santiago lay dead on the ground, a bullet straight through his treacherous, black heart.

tbc

FoH


	14. Chapter 14

The Last Stand  
Chapter 14  
by  
Four of Hearts

Marshal Matt Dillon went down hard, his large frame crumpling to the ground following the nerve-shattering explosions of gunfire that made Kitty jerk in horror. It felt like a sharp knife piercing her own chest. For one terrible moment she fully expected to look down and see blood pouring from a mortal wound in her pounding heart. The grief was too much to bear. She needed to go to him, but Doc and Sam's strong arms held her back.

Then she saw him move, struggling to rise up on one elbow, and she felt the air rush back into her lungs. She could see the fresh stain of crimson blossoming on his shoulder, but Matt Dillon was alive. Wrenching herself free from Doc and Sam, she rushed to his side and fell down on her knees beside him. "Oh, Matt!" she breathed. Cradling his head gently in her lap, damp with the sweat of his labors in spite of the cold, she urged him to hush and be still. "Matt, you're hurt... Doc, hurry!"

But Doc was already there, with Festus, Sam and the others hovering, worriedly watching. "How bad you hit?" Doc anxiously asked as he knelt down beside Kitty and began to carefully examine Matt's shoulder.

"I'm all right." Matt said dismissively, while the pale, pinched expression on his face as he looked up at Kitty belied his words. "Just help me up."

"Oh, no you don't." Kitty protested. "You've been on that leg all you're going to be. Do you hear me?"

Matt grimaced. "But..."

Doc interrupted. "No 'buts', Matt. I'm not kidding. You've lost a lot of blood." He ordered, "Sam, Jonas, some of you men give me a hand over here to get the Marshal back inside."

Kitty stood and backed out of the way, watching while they carefully picked the big man up and carried him back inside the Long Branch. Around her, the town was suddenly coming back to life with Festus and the others angrily eyeing the rest of the bandits who stood wide-eyed, unbelieving that Santiago was dead. "Hands up, ameegos," Festus instructed as he and the rest of the Dodge City defenders carefully aimed their weapons at the motley crew of murderers, rapists and thieves. Festus sneered, "You no-counts, git down off that barricade and hightail it fer the jail. I think it's gonna be a mite crowded, but you'll make do." He advanced with his gun held threateningly as Santiago's men backed away. Motioning to Quint, Clem and Elmer Ayers, he said, "Come on, fellers, let's us escort these yahoos to whar they belong...behind bars."

Kitty Russell gave an immense sigh of relief as she watched her scruffy, determined friend Festus round up the last of the outlaws. Picking up her skirts out of the dust, she headed back inside to see what she could do to help Doc. Kitty breathed easier. Matt was alive and the nightmare of Santiago and his men was over.

FoH

Once Matt was settled back on the examining table, Doc wasted no time in tending to his wounds. "This shoulder's not all that bad, Matt," he observed thoughtfully. "Not more than a graze really. But I'm going to have to re-stitch that leg."

Matt started to reply when he spotted the Mayor Whitaker striding purposely through the door and making his way over to the marshal's side.

"Marshal," Whitaker greeted him. "I'm glad you beat that marauding bastard. If anybody needed killing, it was he. You saved this entire town."

Matt merely nodded, uncomfortable with the praise. Seeing Lavinia coming out of Kitty's office, Matt gestured towards her. "You and your wife over there did your fair share as well, Mayor."

Whitaker turned and saw his wife walking hesitantly towards him. Her face was drawn and her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

The mayor's heart seized in panic as he thought of his son. "Mrs. Whitaker, whatever is the matter? It isn't Josh? What's happened to him?"

"We've moved him upstairs where he will be more comfortable, Harold. Please come with me. We have a lot to discuss."

The blood drained from Whitaker's face as he mumbled his apologies to Matt and Doc and numbly followed his wife up the staircase, unsure of what lay ahead.

Doc shook his head in silent sympathy and Matt looked questioningly at him. "What are his chances, Doc?"

"Honestly, I can't believe he's hung on this long. He'd lost so much blood... But, maybe he's hanging on for Sunny and his baby."

"Baby? You mean...?"

"Yep, believe it or not... He loves that young saloon girl." Doc tugged absently at his ear as his brow furrowed in thought. "You know, after I finish with you, I'm going back upstairs and examine that boy again. It's a miracle he's still alive. Just maybe I can..." He swiped a hand over his wiry mustache and muttered to himself, "Just maybe there's a chance. He's a strong young man to have made it this long."

As he spoke, Doc gathered the instruments he needed to re-suture the Marshal's leg. "Now hold still while I fix this up." It took the physician a while to get the wound taken care of to his satisfaction, not without a fair amount of grumbling from Matt. Then he hurried upstairs to check on the boy again.

The Whitaker men stood anxiously around the bed while Mrs. Whitaker sat by her son, holding his hand, gently smoothing the rumpled hair out of his sunken eyes. Sunny sat in a big chair in one corner of the room with the baby in her arms, tears silently streaking her flushed cheeks. As Doc approached the bedside he felt all the eyes in the room turn anxiously, hopefully, desperately to him. Lavinia rose to make room for him.

Gently he lifted Josh's wrist, and the pulse he felt was surprisingly regular and strong considering the amount of blood the young man had lost. Doc reached for his bag and found a pair of scissors to cut the bandage he had applied to the boy's chest several hours earlier – come to think of it, it seemed like days had passed. His skillful fingers felt around the wound as Josh bravely uttered not a sound, watching Doc trustingly. As yet it was not infected but the bullet was deep inside, very close to the heart.

He stroked his mustache a couple of times, thinking how he could put this. "Listen, Josh, I am going to tell you something. I'm not sure if it is possible but I think there might be a way I can remove that bullet, no guarantee, mind. It is equally possible that you could bleed to death when I try. I'm trying not to hide anything from you. I want you to know what we're up against."

"Doc," Josh looked thoughtful, "if we don't get that bullet out I'm a dead man anyway, right?"

Adams found it difficult to answer. Quietly he nodded his head. Lavinia drew closer to her husband, who put a gentle arm around her shoulders.

Sunny, exhausted and sore from her difficult delivery, slowly got up from her chair and brought the baby over to the bedside. Josh smiled up at her and the tiny mewling sounds coming from the little bundle in her arms. He took a painful breath. "What are the odds, Doc?"

"Probably fifty-fifty," the physician murmured as he turned away. He knew it was not anything like as good as that, but what else could he say? "I'll leave you all to think it over." He started towards the door.

"No need to think, Doc. I want you to try. Half a chance is better than none."

Slowly the older man turned around, pulling on his ear.

"Alright, we'll get you over to my office and get going as soon as I can get all my equipment moved back."

"Oh, Doctor." He was surprised to hear Lavinia's voice. "You are going to need some help doing that surgery. If you'll let me, I'd like to assist you. Like I told you, I have a lot of experience."

"Mrs. Whitaker, I can't ask you to do that. It is your son we'd be operating on."

She stood there calmly, arms folded. She took a step forward. "I know that, Doctor, and I also know that I would be the best assistant you could possibly have."

He smiled at her and took her hand. "I'll go get the men moving things back to my office immediately. Just come on up there when I send for Josh."

She nodded decisively, a hopeful look lighting her careworn features. "Thank you, Doc. I'll be ready when you are."

FoH

For the last few hours men had been outside clearing the barricades from the street. In the Long Branch a small group of people sat around a table at the back. Mayor Whitaker, Sunny and the baby and Marshall Dillon who sat in one chair with his leg propped up on another. Kitty spent time with them but was also supervising the men who were putting the saloon back to rights.

Fidgeting nervously, the Mayor dug out his watch and glanced at it for the umpteenth time. "It's been four hours now and not a word."

"Well, maybe that's a good thing." Kitty replied softly, coming to place a hand comfortingly on his slumped shoulder. The mayor silently marveled that this woman, whom he'd always thought of as brassy and bold, was actually very kindhearted and caring. "Thank you, Miss Kitty," he murmured. "I do so hope that you are correct."

Sunny spoke timidly, quietly. "He's gonna be all right, I just know it." She looked at the man with optimism and courage in her young face. "He has his baby to live for. He's gonna be just fine."

Harold looked at her, really looked at her, and she didn't resemble a saloon girl in the slightest. She had a sweet, fresh face devoid of fancy paint, hair the color of wheat pulled back into a big braid tied with a pink satin ribbon. Her eyes hardly left the little bundle in her arms and she frequently whispered to the child and held its tiny hands, kissing its scrunched up little face. Suddenly, she noticed him watching her. After hesitating only a moment, she rose and handed the baby boy carefully to Harold J. Whitaker.

Uncertainly, awkwardly, the man took the tiny being with the mottled skin and tightly fisted hands and was surprised when his eyes opened, blinking at the light. Harold looked into those shiny dark eyes and felt a stirring inside of his chest. He thought, this is my flesh and blood. All thoughts of Sunny being a contemptible saloon girl had vanished with the warm bundle he held in his big arms. His mind seemed to clear and he suddenly felt he could see the important things in life, while he sat there waiting to find out if his eldest born child would live or die. Whitaker touched the impossibly soft skin of the baby's cheek, wondering what this child's name would be and gave a tentative, slow smile to the young mother of his grandson.

Another hour passed, an hour in which Whitaker had to give up the fussy baby while his mother went into the back office to feed and change him. Then, at long last, Lavinia appeared at the entrance to the saloon, her face exhausted but her eyes shining. She ran to her husband and threw her arms around his neck.

"He made it. Doc says it's going to be a while before he's back on his feet, but he thinks Josh is going to be just fine."

tbc

FoH


	15. Chapter 15

TheLast Stand  
Chapter 15  
by  
Four of Hearts

Since the telegraph wires had been damaged by one of Elmer Ayer's errant dynamite sticks, someone rode out to Fort Dodge and notified the people sheltering there that it was now safe to come home. Tim Hardy, the hemophiliac patient, had been reunited with his returning family, with strict orders from Doc to rest until the wound was fully healed. Sunny and her baby had been relocated to the Dodge House at the insistence of Lavinia, with Mr. Whitaker footing the bill and kicking up only a modicum of fuss. Kitty had no doubt that, if Lavinia had her way, the two young people would soon be married.

As Matt knew he would, Harold J. Whitaker had once again taken up the reins and organized the removal of all the barriers and dispatched people here and there to repair damage incurred during the fight, including the giant crater in the street, complements once more of Elmer's talent with explosives. When Whitaker wasn't outside roughly giving orders, he was with his family, talking matters out and making plans for the future.

Louie, sporting a rather impressive bandage on his head, along with Ruby Ayers, volunteered to sweep up while various others worked diligently in and outside of the saloon to clean and clear away as much of the damage as possible. Mrs. Cooksey, though heartbroken at her husband's death, had made her way down to her restaurant and opened it for business. "This place was my husband's dream," she said defiantly. "I will not let it die with him."

Matt had refused to go to bed. He declared he would be just fine sitting in a chair with his leg propped up. Doc, after the exhausting events of the day, didn't have the energy to argue with him. Sam and Festus helped him into Kitty's office where he could fill out official reports on the incident with Santiago's Comancheros. Kitty promised Doc she would make him lie down and rest from time to time. And after the hair-raising tale Matt had regaled to Doc regarding his newfound regard for her powers of persuasion with ornery villains the likes of Enzo Quintana, Doc held no doubt she'd be successful with only a stubborn lawman attempting to resist her obvious charms.

The town worked all that next day following the gunfight, and by nightfall most things were pretty much back in order. The dead outlaws had been taken up to Boot Hill and buried, and all of Santiago's bandits captured during the skirmish were safely ensconced in the jail, awaiting trial. Funeral plans were made to bury the brave citizens of Dodge who'd lost their lives in the fight to save their city.

As night began to settle around the town, Kitty wearily slipped into her office to sit for a few precious minutes beside Matt. "You all right, Cowboy?" she murmured as her gaze settled over him, but she had to touch him, feel him beneath her hands to assure herself that he was indeed alive and safe and whole and they were still together. Her heart squeezed painfully at the thought that he could be one of the dead, and she could be making burial plans for him right now, like poor Delilah Cooksey. She shivered at the bleak thought.

"I'm alright, Kitty." Matt answered her, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly, perhaps sensing in her expression something of what she was really feeling. "How about you? You've been working for two days straight now. Don't you think it's about time you took a break?"

"What do you think I am doing?" She arched a delicate brow at him.

Matt shook his head. "I mean a real break, Kitty. You haven't had any sleep and you've barely eaten or even sat down for the last twenty-four hours."

"Oh, Matt," she replied with a long-suffering sigh. "I'm okay. When you're used to wrangling with Texas cowboys on a nightly basis, this is nothing."

Matt grinned as she tried in vain to hide a mischievous smile. Reaching for her, he pulled her lips to his for a quick kiss that neither of them wanted to end.

"Miss Kitty!" she heard a voice call from out in the barroom.

Kitty groaned and pulled away. "No rest for the weary, I guess," she grumbled as she stood to go in search of whoever had called her, turning to look longingly over her shoulder. Matt watched her go with a certain amount of awe and pride in the woman that was Kitty Russell, thanking the fates once again that she was his.

FoH

The night, though clear, was cold outside, but no one inside the Long Branch seemed to notice. The place was filled with the heroic defenders of Dodge City, relating stories, shaking hands, pounding one another on the back. All drinks were on the house, of course. Unfortunately, not all of the brave heroes were present, Matt thought sadly. Mr. Cooksey, Nash McGuire and several other souls had given their very lives to protect this town. They, along with the others who were wounded in the fighting, would be forever hailed as the true heroes that they were.

Amidst the heartfelt expressions of both sorrow and joy, regret and pride, Sam struck up a quiet tune on his fiddle. Festus made his way to the front and with Sam's accompaniment sang a serene, earnest rendition of "Red River Valley." By the time they finished up with the haunting melody "Beautiful Dreamer" there was hardly a dry eye in the house.

It was at the close of this second tune that boot steps were heard clomping across the boardwalk and the doors swung open, letting in a rush of cold air along with one very tired man with a bloody rag wrapped around his arm. "Sure hope there's a drop of that there whiskey left for me," Nash McGuire proclaimed as he entered. "I could use a drink right about now."

All eyes silently turned to the man they'd given up for dead, and a rousing cheer split the air when they realized he wasn't. As Nash made his way further into the saloon, he was pressed on all sides by folks wanting to know how he had escaped when death seemed so certain.

"They couldn't find me," he said simply. "There's a lotta rocks out that way, and they couldn't look behind all of 'em. When I ran out of bullets, I just found me a big rock, hunkered down and waited till they was all gone. Since my horse was gone, it took me a spell to walk back, but I made it."

Cheers went up again for the returning hero, and his now empty glass was once again filled before Doc dragged him away to tend his wounded arm.

Now in the wee, black hours of the morning, after the last tale of courage and self-sacrifice had been told, after the final sentimental song had been sung and the last epic toast given, everyone had headed home to climb exhausted into their safe, warm beds. Kitty had finally ushered Sam out the door despite the fact that the place wasn't tidied up to his usual standards, but he was so bone-tired, he heeded her for once without the slightest protest. Before he'd gone though, Sam had helped the marshal hobble the short distance to his cot in Kitty's office, thoughtfully stoking up the fire in the potbelly stove to keep the injured lawman warm.

Matt was now lying on his back, attempting in vain to quiet his restless mind so he'd be able to drop off to sleep and get some sorely needed rest. Then he saw the door crack open and Kitty slip through, and his battle-weary heart gave a tiny leap at her calming presence. Carrying the stub of a candle on a holder, she could see that he was still awake and she shook her head worriedly. The wooden floorboards squeaked as she turned and set the sputtering candle on the table. Placing her hands on her hips, she murmured in that honeyed alto voice Matt loved so well, "Can't sleep? I thought you'd be so tired you might be passed out cold by now."

He scrubbed wearily at his burning, scratchy eyes. "Nope." In the dim light, Matt appreciatively drank in her familiar lovely presence-all that smooth skin swathed in whispering green silk and big blue eyes that always beckoned to him. He grunted, "Come sit by me."

"Oh no, Marshal Dillon, you need to get some sl—"

"Quit arguing with me, Kitty Russell, and get yourself over here." He sat up slowly, carefully, so as not to damage Doc's latest handiwork, and tugged her down beside him. Reaching up, he expertly removed combs and pins until he could brush his hands through her unbound tresses. After the past few weeks of deprivation and cold and injury and worry, it was pure luxury to feel the silky, feminine strands sliding between his calloused fingers, and he gave a deep, rumbling sigh of contentment. Kitty's eyes drifted closed as she blissfully relished her big lawman's infinitely gentle touch.

Then she felt him unfastening the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons at the back of her emerald green dress, and she quietly protested, "Matt, you've gotta be kidding me. You're in no condition to..."

Placing an insistent finger softly on her lips, he explained, "I just want you to lie down next to me, that's all."

His tender words tugged at her heart and she hushed, letting him pull the luxuriously beaded gown off her shoulders and skim it down her body to the floor. Then he untied her voluminous petticoats and bustle, adding them to the pile. Her arms bare, she shivered in the cold as she laid her clothing carefully across a chair back. Matt lay still and watched her through hooded eyes as she sat in the chair, leaning over to remove her shoes in the flickering candlelight. Wearing only her filmy, frilly underthings, she crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the chill, and he quickly shifted his weight to his uninjured side, scooting over and holding the blanket aloft in silent invitation. He closed his eyes in pure pleasure as she carefully, carefully nestled her small body next to his, their arms and legs enfolding and entwining on the small bed until he couldn't tell where he left off and she began. He gave a great sigh as she laid her soft cheek against his chest, and he rubbed her bare skin to help warm her up.

She worriedly asked, "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Not at all, honey, not one bit. You just stay right where you are."

Her lips curled up happily and she breathed him in, all six feet, seven inches of him, mightily resisting the overpowering urge to squeeze him tight because she was afraid she might truly injure him.

They lay quietly listening to the crackle of burning wood in the stove, breathing softly, the warmth of one seeping into the other, each thankful that the other had come to no permanent harm. It seemed they'd dodged the proverbial bullet once more. Kitty had almost drifted off when she felt Matt's voice reverberate in her ear as it lay against his chest.

"Kitty?" His fingers trailed down her spine beneath the blanket.

She murmured groggily, "Mmm...?"

"Please don't ever do that again."

Her brow wrinkled and she raised her head a bit to peer up at him with sleepy eyes. "Do what?"

"That thing you did with Quintana. You nearly scared the life outta me, honey."

She gave a small, crooked smile, brushing her lips against his, shivering in delight at the taste of him. "I won't ever do that again." She distracted him with another kiss, deeper and sweeter this time. "I promise," she murmured drily, knowing she'd probably never have to concern herself again with outsmarting a wily bandit by hiking up her skirts and then pointing a loaded gun at him. No worries. Then she lay her head back against his chest, comforted by the steady rhythm of his big heart and gave a sigh.

"I'm real proud of you, Kitty."

"You are?"

"Yes, I am," he murmured matter-of-factly in the dark. "You're my brave girl."

She smiled wordlessly and squeezed him around his middle gently. They lay still and felt their nerves unwinding, their taut muscles relaxing, their minds soothing in each other's presence. Matt thought Kitty had finally dozed off when she suddenly added in a small, drowsy voice, "I can't believe you kissed me in front of God and everyone, Matt Dillon."

"Me neither."

"Are you sorry you did it?"

"Nope." His chest rumbled again like a contented bear. "Night, honey."

"Night, Cowboy."

end

FoH


End file.
